


Overpowered

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Series: We Can Be Heroes [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Back on my bullshit with excessive fire and ice metaphors and imagery, Cheesy Villains With Ugly Costumes, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian AU, Medication, PTSD, Panic Attack, So Much Superhero Nonsense, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping, Violence, Yvie Is Psychic Because Why Not At This Point, mild implied smut, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-08-18 19:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Brooke and Vanessa settle into their new life together. But will new heroes, new villains, and new threats wreck everything they've built?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! Thank you to everyone that read and gave feedback on Powerless, you really inspired me to keep this story going. (You probably need to read Powerless if you're just coming into this series for the first time). Thank you for continuing on this journey with me! I really hope you enjoy this first chapter, and I would appreciate any comments or feedback you have!  


“It’s good to be back, baby!” Vanjie roars, and Frost smiles in agreement. Her smiles come easier now. She doesn’t have to force them like she used to, when spreading a grin across her face was like trying to cut through stone. 

The October-orange leaves blur as Vanjie speeds by in the black car she’s named Bertha, and Frost wishes she had about three more seat belts. 

“First night back on patrol, let’s do this!” Vanjie continues. “That song should be playing. You know, the one that plays in the movies when people walk all bad-ass like?”

“You mean ‘Back in Black’?”

“That’s the one! That should follow us wherever we go.” Vanjie cackles out the window and Frost grins even as her leg bounces with nerves. 

Vanjie puts a steady hand on her thigh. It calms her somewhat, but at this point she thinks she’d be calmer if that hand was on the wheel. “You’re gonna be fine, baby. Just follow my lead,” Vanjie promises.

She parks the car in an alley with a ladder that leads to the roof a Mexican restaurant. “So, we just kinda hang here for now.” Vanjie dangles her legs over the edge of the roof. “It’s nice up here, and Silk calls if she gets any hits on her satellite.”

The view _is_ nice. The city vibrates with life, lights twinkling in the streets below, people humming in the distance, but they’re 30 feet up and there’s no way Frost is sticking her legs off the roof. She crosses them instead, dropping her hands into her lap. 

It’s cool outside, and maybe it’s the soft breeze, caressing her gently, or the moon shining off Vanjie’s waves, making her face glow, but Frost doesn’t think she’s ever felt more whole, more in love with Vanjie and the world. Maybe even with herself.

“I used to look for you, you know,” she confesses, high on moonlight. “Once I finished my missions for the night, I’d walk around, hoping I’d find you. It’s like I could think a little clearer when you were there.”

She remembers those nights, when talking to Vanjie was the only thing that felt real in her hazy mind. The only thing reminding her she was still alive. 

“Really?” Vanjie smiles at her, eyes kind and warm. “I used to do the same thing, I ain’t gonna lie. When Silk said she spotted you, I used to _run_, girl. At first I wanted to catch you. Then I kinda just wanted to see you. It was nice, you know? Having someone who understood, I guess.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” She leans in, a hand on Vanjie’s shoulder. She closes the gap between them, lips craving Vanjie’s--

“Bank robbery on 19th,” Silk crackles in their ear comms.

“Great timing, Silk,” Vanjie says. 

They race to the bank and Frost keeps her focus on Vanjie. _I’m a good person. I deserve to be forgiven_. Nina’s words swirl in her brain, but she struggles to make them stick as Frost reminds herself that Vanjie would have been driving to stop _her_ just months ago. 

Vanjie hops out and begins teasing the robber, and Frost stands against the car like a magnet is holding her there. She knows Vanjie doesn’t need her help, but she should be offering instead of standing around like an idiot. Vanjie punches him in the jaw and it’s like she’s punched Frost, her mind rattling. _Vanjie should be punching me. I’m bad like him_. She takes a breath. _No, that wasn’t me._

Vanjie pulls handcuffs off her belt and attaches the bank robber to a pole before having Silk call the cops. She leads Frost into an alleyway. 

“Brooke,” Vanjie says quietly, and Frost listens. “I know where your mind is going, but try not to let it, okay? Self-blame won’t get you anywhere. Believe me, I know.” She puts her hand on Frost’s cheek, fingers smoothing over her temple. Vanjie is probably the only other person who does know how it feels, and she listens. 

She nods. 

Vanjie grins. “Come on then. We got more assholes to stop.”  
\---

It’s the day before Vanessa’s birthday and Brooke makes a solo trip to the animal shelter while Vanessa is at the base. It’s the first time she’s gone anywhere alone, really, and her neck is damp with sweat despite the cool air. 

She tries to unclench her fists, to stop jumping at every noise. She _knows_ everyone from the lab is gone, but last night she dreamt that they caught her and woke up screaming so loud her throat is still scratchy and every door slam and footstep is the General here to take her away. 

Her ears fill with the barks and howls of the shelter and she relaxes. She knows just the dog she wants, a tiny brown and white puppy named Riley whose yips are almost too loud for such a small body to contain. 

She keeps looking at the dog and grinning the whole way home, never in her life thinking she’d have someone to give a dog to.

Vanessa is going to love him.  
\---

Even though Vanessa’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow, Brooke just can’t wait. 

The second Vanessa gets home, Brooke runs into their spare bedroom, where she’d hidden Riley. “Be good for your mommy,” she whispers, scooping the dog into her arms. 

Vanessa’s jaw drops open, but all that comes out are sputtering gasps when Brooke puts the dog in her hands. 

“Is it okay?” she asks frantically, chewing her lip. “I know how much you liked the dog you had as a kid and I thought you might want one now…”

“Oh, Brooke,” Vanessa breathes. “He’s perfect.” She kisses his nose and strokes his fur. “I love him.” 

They spend the night sprawled on the living room carpet, introducing Riley to the cats and letting the animals crawl all over them.

“We got a regular Noah’s ark in here.” Vanessa laughs, nudging Henry’s paw out of the way to plant a kiss on Brooke’s cheek.  
\---

_Vanessa wears a long white gown, ring sparkling on her finger. The sun is a halo behind her but her smile is even brighter, and the “I do” flies out of her mouth before the minister (Nina, for some strange reason) even finishes talking. Brooke leans down and kisses those warm lips--_

Brooke opens her eyes. Vanessa’s sleeping, in her pajamas rather than a wedding dress, and the only sun strains to be seen. It’s just past 6, and she should sleep longer but knows she won’t be able to, her body buzzing and her mind wide-awake in anticipation of the party and what she wants to do after. 

She pads into the kitchen, feeding the pets and starting on the cake for tonight. She’s slowly becoming more comfortable in the apartment, slowly losing her fear that someone will take her away from it. She doesn’t hesitate as she reaches for the flour and replaces the butter in the butter dish, which she would have never done without asking before. It feels like home, and Brooke allows herself to feel it. 

The chocolate cake is in the oven, buttercream is chilling in the fridge, and she’s finishing up the birthday pancakes when Vanessa shuffles in, her pajama pants decorated with ghosts and bats. 

Vanessa takes in the mountain of bowls, measuring cups, and spoons piled on the drying rack and her eyes widen in alarm. “You didn’t have another nightmare, did you? I should’ve heard-”

“No, it was a good dream this time.” She steers Vanessa to the table. 

“Happy birthday, Ness,” she tests it out, burying her lips in the waves at the top of Vanessa’s head. 

“Thank you, baby.” Vanessa tips her head back and cranes her neck up for a kiss. 

“This is real maple syrup. I saw it in the store and I really wanted it. It feels like...like a memory? Like I know I’ve had it before?” she attempts to explain, passing the bottle to Vanessa. 

Vanessa nods, taking in the colorful plate of fruit she’s laid out on the kitchen table. “You went all out on this, huh?” she asks, piling strawberries on her plate. 

Brooke blushes. “Anything for you.”

They both have the day off and Vanessa helps Brooke with the cooking. She pulls out a battered recipe box that she holds with deep reverence, the cards written in neat, looping cursive, and Brooke knows without Vanessa telling her that it belonged to her mother. 

They spend the day in the kitchen making all of Vanessa’s favorites, rice and beans, and enchiladas, and macaroni and cheese, and they move around each other with such grace it’s like a dance, with such ease it’s like breathing.

Like they were each an extension of the other’s body, and maybe even of their soul.  
\---

A’Keria and Silk barge in promptly at 7, and Brooke is calm. She is calm through dinner as they regale her with stories from their early days fighting crime, including the night Vanjie got chased by a wild boar that escaped from the zoo.

She is calm as she brings the cake out to oohs and aahs, calm at the absolute butchering of “Happy Birthday”. She is calm as she plucks the candles out, wax soft and warm, as she slides the knife through the chocolate frosting--

_A little blonde girl with green eyes beams at her gigantic chocolate cake, seven candles glowing in the thick frosting. A kind woman with similar eyes smiles at her, tells her to make a wish--_

Her fingers remain stiff as the knife is pried out of her hand, a glass of water pushed into it seconds later. She lifts it to her mouth numbly, letting out a relieved sigh as her surroundings refocus and she sees Vanessa has brought her to the kitchen. 

“My mom,” she explains hoarsely. “I think I saw my mom.”

“Oh, Brooke,” Vanessa soothes, rubbing her back. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. I-I just never saw her before, and she’s…well, you know...” she trails off, choking back a sob. 

“But it was nice,” she continues. “I think I look like her a little.”

Vanessa smiles, sadness clouding her eyes. “I’m happy you got to see her. I just wish the flashbacks didn’t take so much out of you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I hate when they happen in front of everyone, they must think I’m-”

“Brooke, they _know_ what an amazing person you are. This doesn’t change anything. And I better not hear any apologies from you on my birthday,” she warns, face stretching into a grin. 

Brooke laughs and lets Vanessa lead her back to the dining room. 

Silk and A’Keria look concerned, but there’s nothing unkind in their expressions. _This doesn’t change what they think of me_, she reminds herself. 

“Vanessa’s been talking about this cake all week. She makes you sound like damn Martha Stewart. We gonna try it or what?” A’Keria asks, and Brooke cuts the cake.  
\---

Vanessa marches into the living room with a slim box under her arm and the grin of a tiger stalking prey on her face. 

“Don’t think I forgot, hoe.” Vanessa thrusts the Monopoly box at Silk.

“Oh, shit,” A’Keria mutters. “Brooke, you got more wine? Hell, I’ll take the whole bottle.”

“Is this a thing?” Brooke asks, giving A’Keria the wine while Silk and Vanessa set up the board and pick pieces like military generals planning a battle. 

“This is kind of our birthday tradition. Oh, my child. You have no idea what you’re about to witness. If you got anything valuable in this living room, you might want to put it away.”

Brooke’s not sure if A’Keria is serious, but she grabs the vase that was Vanessa’s mother’s and stashes it in their bedroom just in case. She settles on the rug as A’Keria drains another glass. 

The next two hours are a war like Brooke has never seen. She’s pretty sure actual war is tamer than this. The board is held together with duct tape and covered in suspicious red stains; some of the cards are singed around the edges and the shoe piece has been replaced with a hot pink Barbie heel. Brooke’s been enlisted to hand out money, as the most trustworthy of the group, and has two paper cuts on her fingers from Silk snatching it out of her hands. A’Keria sports a dime-sized bruise on her arm after Vanessa pelted her with dice. Silk uses her wad of cash as a fan and a weapon when she owes someone money. A’Keria hides her money beneath her ass (Vanessa yells that she can fit the entire Federal Reserve under there). Brooke feebly sticks hers in her back pocket and Vanessa stuffs her shares down her shirt, ruthlessly collecting payments from the others. Brooke wonders if they’ll be here until Christmas when Silk and Vanessa both launch the board a little after midnight, propelling money and game pieces across the apartment and prompting a 10-minute argument over who actually flipped it first. A’Keria is blissfully drunk (she’s already spilled some on the board, another battle scar) and helps Brooke pick up the game pieces, some of which have scattered all the way to the bathroom. 

Vanessa is still insisting Silk cheated when she heads into the bedroom. She pulls off her sweater and tosses it to the floor, and Brooke knows now is the time. 

Brooke stands nervously in the doorway. She unbuttons her shirt with shaky fingers, reminds herself that Vanessa has seen her scars before and doesn’t care, doesn’t think any less of her for them. Nina’s told her several times that the scars from the bad things the lab did don’t make her bad, don’t make her any less deserving of love. But the fear still remains that Vanessa won’t want her. 

“Um, there’s one more thing I want to give you.” 

Vanessa’s eyes go wide as she realizes. 

“Brooke, you’re sure? We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, or because you think you have to.” 

“I’m sure.” 

She’s never been more sure of anything.  
\---

Brooke collapses onto the pillow breathlessly, Vanessa doing the same. 

“Was it okay? I don’t know if I’ve ever...I don’t remember, anyway-”

“Relax, Mary! Brooke, it was amazing. It was everything. You’re everything.” She presses a kiss to Brooke’s cheek before wrapping her in a warm, sleepy embrace.  
\---

“Ow! What the hell?”

“What is it?”

“I stepped on a fucking Monopoly racecar!”

“I _knew_ we were missing a piece!”  
\---

There’s only days until the new recruits arrive and Brooke’s whole body is tense, like she’s expecting some blow to come. It’s that second when your chair tips too far back, and you’re desperately clawing at the air, trying to regain your balance before you fall backwards. 

Only she’s stuck there. 

In three days she brings cookies, brownies, and donuts for everyone to eat at the base because she just can’t sleep, not even when Vanessa holds her. What little sleep she does get is plagued with nightmares of being back at the lab, needles piercing her arm and the General laughing in her face.

“Why do you think you’ve been anxious, Brooke?” Nina’s voice is kind across the desk. 

She looks down at her lap, like a kid called on in class when they haven’t been paying attention. 

“There’s no right or wrong answer,” Nina says gently, like she’s read Brooke’s mind. 

“P-probably...probably because the new recruits are coming Wednesday?”

“Why do you think you’re anxious about that?” 

Now that she’s admitted the fear out loud, the floodgates are open and the worries come rushing out. “Because I don’t know them! How do I know I can trust them? What if they find out about me and think I’m bad? What if they don’t like me, or they think I’m crazy or weak or something? And then they’ll tell Silk, and she’ll realize how bad I am too.”

She chews on her nails and Nina passes her the squeeze ball she keeps on her desk for when Brooke gets fidgety. 

“You’re none of those things, Brooke, and I’m sure these new recruits will see that. I do think your fears are valid, but keep in mind that Silk wouldn’t have picked anyone she didn’t think was trustworthy.”

Brooke nods, the ball compressing under her grip. It makes sense when Nina puts it that way. 

“They also don’t know anything about your past. Your information is your information. They won’t know anything unless you want them to, and it’s fine if you don’t want them to, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, now that you’ve gotten the worries out of the way, I want you to imagine this going well. What are some good things that could happen?”

Nina’s asked her to do this before. It’s supposed to help her stop catastrophizing and focus on good outcomes. “Um, they might like me?”

“Good! What else?”

“Maybe I’ll like them?” Her voice grows steadier. “And maybe we’ll be friends, and if I did decide to tell them about me, they wouldn’t care.”

“That’s great, Brooke! I want you to think of those when you start to worry, okay?”

Brooke nods. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.  
\---

Nina’s advice gets her through the next day, but Wednesday comes and Vanessa grips Brooke’s sweaty hand in her own as A’Keria leads them to the conference room to meet the new girls. 

“We’re gonna be fine,” Vanessa assures her as they walk in. 

“This is Scarlet and Yvie.” A’Keria gestures to the two women talking to Silk in the corner. There’s a certain intimacy between them, the same intimacy Brooke sees between her and Vanessa. 

Scarlet’s bright red hair glimmers like copper. She seems confident and unbothered, and it’s a little unnerving to Brooke, the way she stands there like she owns the place. But her smile is wide and warm, and her eyes are kind as she shakes Brooke’s hand. 

Yvie is nearly as tall as Brooke, with long, lanky limbs that Brooke thinks would contort like a Slinky. “You can just call me Yvie, you don’t have to use the code name,” she says quickly. “Silk told me I had to have one, but I don’t really give a shit about the secret identity. Then you got this one here-” she throws an arm around Scarlet fondly “-who puts her own damn name in the superhero name.”

“So what are you hoes’ powers?” Vanessa demands.

“I scream like a bitch,” Scarlet deadpans before bursting into laughter. “No, seriously, my voice has sonic vibrations that knock people out.”

“I see shit,” Yvie says. “I'm like, lowkey psychic, I guess? I see visions of stuff that happens, and I try to save people who are in trouble. But it’s not always super-specific or anything.” 

“And we know _all_ about you two!” Yvie continues and Brooke’s heart beats like a drum in her ears. _They know_. 

“Fire and ice, how fucking metal is that?” She turns to Vanessa. “Does your head catch on fire like Hades in _Hercules_? Also, y’all should totally give me your birth information so I can do your astrological charts,” she crows excitedly. 

Brooke breathes a sigh of relief. Then it hits her that the only information she has on herself and her birth is in an untouched folder stuffed in her dresser, because as much as she wants to know she just can’t bring herself to open it. 

“Don’t mind this one. She loves to talk.” Scarlet rolls her eyes, but the love in them is clear. 

“So, I think we’ll start the meeting now-” Silk starts.

“Anyone else hot in here?” Vanessa interrupts, gathering her hair into a ponytail.

“You’re always hot, girl,” A’Keria says. 

“Damn right I am,” Vanessa says back, and Brooke snorts, feels some tension crest out of her shoulders. Vanessa slips an arm around her waist and just the weight of it is an anchor.

“Your hair,” Yvie breathes, leaning in and getting a good look at Vanessa’s face, like she’s suddenly seeing her for the first time. “Oh, shit.” 

“What?”

“Um, there’s no easy way to say this, but I had a vision last night of this girl, and you’re her. And in the vision, you, well…”

“Spit it out, Mary.”

“You were dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke and Vanessa celebrated Vanessa's birthday and adjusted to their new lives, before hearing a shocking vision from Yvie  
Now: They struggle after the vision, and new threats are on the horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry about the wait on this one! I was away for most of the week and didn't have much writing time. But Chapter 2 is here and the angst train is getting rolling.  
I want to thank all of you for the amazing feedback on the first chapter. Your comments really made my happy and I appreciate each one of them. It would be great if you could leave some for this chapter too!  
***This chapter does have mentions of anxiety, mild violence, and mentions of self-destructive behavior. Please be cautious.***  


“Hold up! What the hell you mean I was dead?”

“Vanessa,” Silk warns.

“Don’t ‘Vanessa’ me! You want to just have a meeting after Professor fucking Trelawney here told me I’m gonna die!?”

She slams her fist on the table and faintly registers Brooke jumping at the noise--she makes a note to apologize later--and turns to Yvie. “What. Did. You. See?” She forces out through clenched teeth. 

Yvie pales. “I saw a clock tower by a cemetery.”

“That fucking fits,” Vanessa snarls, her nose almost touching Yvie’s. 

“The clock was cracked. It was stuck at 11:03. There was snow on the ground. Your hair was up--that’s why I didn’t realize it was you at first. Brooke’s face was bleeding and she was holding you. That’s all I saw.”

“How’d you know I was dead?”

“I can’t explain it, but I know. It’s a _feeling_ I get.”

“You can’t see more?” Vanessa demands. 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Yvie retreats with a sigh. “I get them randomly, I can’t control it. Usually I don’t even know what I’m seeing.”

Her hands curl into fists, heat pulsing in her fingertips. 

“Can we avoid it?” Silk cuts in. “Or is it inevitable?”

“Well, they always happen, but sometimes not how I expect. Like, one time I saw a guy bleeding, but _he_ was attacking someone. He was the bad guy. They’re not always what they seem. Maybe we can save you, or-”

“Me being dead seems like me being dead!” 

“If you’re done yelling, you might want to take care of your girlfriend,” Scarlet interrupts coolly. 

She suddenly notices the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. Brooke is hunched over the garbage while A’Keria rubs her back. She straightens up and walks out, whole body shaking. 

Shit. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she says to Yvie, rubbing her eyes. “Gimme a minute.”

She sprints into the hall and is greeted by a hole in the wall flecked with red. Brooke’s head is in her hands, the knuckles on her right hand already light purple and bleeding. 

“Brooke,” she whispers. Brooke looks up and Vanessa’s heart breaks at her red eyes and the tears spilling down her cheeks. Her breaths are quick and shallow. 

“Baby,” she breathes, wiping Brooke’s tears with her thumb. 

“I don’t want you to die!” Brooke sobs, sounding like a wounded animal. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Breathe, Brooke.” She puts on her brave voice, not sure who it’s for. “You heard Yvie. There might be a way around this. I ain’t going down without a fight. It’ll take more than that to get rid of me. I’m like a damn cockroach.”

Brooke smiles weakly but the tears are still flowing, and Vanessa holds her and pets her hair. Her own tears well up but don’t fall. 

She whispers that it’s okay as Brooke’s trembling eases and her ragged breathing steadies. 

If only she believed it.  
\---

They get Brooke’s hand bandaged and Vanessa almost wishes she could wrap herself in a bandage, like a cocoon, and never come out. 

“Do you need anything?” Brooke asks once they’re home. Vanessa truly can’t figure out what she needs. 

“I’m going for a walk,” she says. 

Brooke nods wearily. Vanessa hears a choked scream and more sobbing after she leaves.

The sky is gray. She can _feel_ the rain coming but keeps walking, leaves crunching as she stomps down the sidewalk, feet carrying her to her mother’s grave. Not that there had been anything to bury after the fire. 

_There’d be snow on the ground_. The snow was usually gone around March. Did she really have less than six months? Did she really survive the fire, survive _everything_ the past few years, to be denied seeing spring flowers poke through the ground?

_No_. Her throat is tight and she refuses to think about it. She’s cheated death once. She can do it again. 

Thunder cracks like the sky has split in two. Raindrops pound against the earth, everything awash in gray. 

Pouring rain while she cries in a cemetery. What a fucking cliché. Within seconds she’s soaked, but she doesn’t move. She stands there until her clothes are heavy and dripping and she can’t tell if the wetness on her face is from tears or raindrops. 

She has no idea how much time passes, rain chilling her bones, teeth chattering, when suddenly a too-big coat is draped around her shoulders. She looks up and sees Brooke, T-shirt clinging to her shivering skin, hair drenched. Her eyes are redder than before and Vanessa figures she must have cried the entire time she was gone. Vanessa can just discern Bertha parked behind her. 

“You drove here? Brooke, you’re afraid to drive.”

“I had to come get you.”

Vanessa slams her face against Brooke’s chest and cries as the rain beats down, her life one cliché after another. Brooke’s arms are so strong and secure it feels like Yvie’s vision isn’t a possibility. Like nothing could ever hurt her.

Brooke drives her home, white-knuckled grip on the wheel, worry shining in her eyes. Vanessa won’t let go of Brooke’s coat; not as she shuffles through the kitchen, dripping water all over the floor, not as Brooke puts her into warm pajamas and tucks her into bed with a kiss on her forehead. The lavender scent fills her as she drifts off.  
\---

Two days later Vanessa wakes up thinking Yvie’s vision might be better than her stuffy head and burning nose. 

Brooke rolls over and coughs harshly. “Ness, I think something’s wrong with me,” she says fearfully. 

Vanessa feels a tiny stab of guilt, but at least there’s someone to be sick and miserable with her. 

“We’re sick, Brooke,” she rasps, throat desert-dry. “That’s the last time I dramatically cry in the rain.” 

She hears a key clicking in the lock, muffled cursing as something clatters against the door. 

“Do you think someone’s coming to kill us?” Brooke sneezes twice and fumbles for tissues on the nightstand. 

“If they are I might let them,” Vanessa groans, burying her face in the pillow to smother her pounding headache.

“Your savior has arrived,” A’Keria chirps in the doorway, bags hanging off her arm. “I knew you two were getting sick.”

A’Keria unloads a pharmacy’s worth of tissues, orange juice, and pills. She gives them cold medicine and steaming bowls of chicken soup. Brooke seems shocked to have someone taking care of her when she’s sick, and Vanessa tries not to think about that, not sure her body can hold any more anger toward the lab. 

They huddle in bed and watch _Schitt’s Creek_, and Brooke falls asleep with her head on Vanessa’s shoulder, and aside from feeling like shit, it’s kind of nice. 

Vanessa hopes the nice days aren’t numbered.  
\---

Despite the ticking clock above her head, the next few weeks just...pass by. Like nothing is wrong. It’s mostly because Vanessa won’t acknowledge it. She has plenty of practice burying problems. (They have until it snows. It’s fine. She’s fine). 

She’s never backed down from a fight. She liked the thrill, the energy. The problem is, there’s nothing _to_ fight. There’s no villain, no secret lab. She can’t fight her way out, and that might be the scariest part. 

She patches things up with Yvie and Scarlet. (_If you blow this I will kick you to the curb_, Silk had threatened). Luckily they weren’t upset after the meeting, and, inspired by A’Keria’s 5-star “Bitch can bake” review of Brooke’s cooking, they’re part of the Sunday brunch crew. 

And Brooke. She sees Nina constantly. She apologizes over and over for everything, throws herself into training with Scarlet and Yvie. She nods off during their mostly-uneaten dinner twice in one week. 

Vanessa’s not doing much better, despite the lies she tells. It’s like she’s fracturing into different Vanessas, slowly losing the real one. Practical Vanessa does research with Silk and Yvie, reviewing the vision, brainstorming plans. Avoidant Vanessa wants to hole up in bed and never leave. Normal Vanessa doesn’t quite work, as she finds herself desperately clinging to each kiss, each laugh, even each Trader Joe’s run, wondering if it’s the last. 

And the Vanessa that’s slowly overpowering the others. Reckless Vanessa, the Vanessa that has decided she’s basically immortal until the snow flies, that destroys speed limits without her seatbelt and takes on dangerous criminals without backup or ear comm. The Vanessa that is daring Yvie’s vision to be wrong by acting in ways she knows full well can get her killed. 

She should talk to Nina, talk to _someone_. But she can’t. She can’t watch Nina’s overly-kind face say her feelings are valid and it’s expected for her to act out but she should cope in a healthier way. (Her coping methods could be worse. She hasn’t even _touched_ her liquor cabinet, though she gazed longingly yesterday). Besides, right now, she can pretend it’s not real. It’s just an image that’s months away. But if she talks about it, it’s a real problem. A problem she has to admit she is helpless against. 

“We can talk about it if you want,” Brooke offers one night. 

She refuses.  
—-

“I’m going on patrol,” Vanjie states firmly. 

“But Scarlet and Yvie are out-“

“I’m going.”

“I’ll come with you-“

“No. You should stay. Get some sleep, you look exhausted. Don’t wait up or anything.”

Cold winds hits her face. She uses her police scanner and sticks to the streets, and for 4 hours she is in total control, each punch, kick, and smack letting her fight the fact that she _can’t_ fight what’s coming. 

She gets home at 3am and finds Brooke half-asleep on the couch, baking show on TV and mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table long since turned cold. 

She can’t help but feel that a crack is forming between them. 

And she’s holding the chisel.  
\---

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?” Vanessa cuts her chicken so it looks like she’s eaten. 

“I might ask Nina about the anxiety meds.”

“That’s a big step for you,” Vanessa says gently.

“Yeah. It’s just...I feel...I feel like I’m always waiting for something bad to happen. And I’m so tired but my brain can’t quiet down, and the flashbacks and panic attacks are getting worse and I just...it’s a lot,” Brooke finishes quietly, head down, and Vanessa sees how deep the bags under her eyes are. 

Guilt floods her. She’s noticed Brooke’s body tight like a coiled spring lately, but she’s been too wrapped up in everything to see it was getting that bad, that Brooke was suffering so much. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have known you haven’t been doing so well.”

“Don’t apologize. You have to focus on yourself too.”

“Still,” Vanessa insists. “So, meds, huh? You know there’s no shame in asking for help,” she says, sensing Brooke’s apprehension. 

“I know. But I...I’m still kinda scared to take them. The lab never--it was bad to take anything besides what they gave me, and I’m afraid the meds will make me feel like theirs did...”

Sometimes Vanessa doesn’t think she can hate the lab more than she does. Then she hears this and wishes she could have personally ended everyone that worked there. “Brooke, you’re not bad for taking them, okay? The meds won’t be like the lab’s. They’ll make you feel better.”

“Okay.” 

She still hasn’t brought the prescription home.  
\---

They have their first group patrol, Scarlet in a deep red suit with gold piping and a gold double-_S_ and Yvie in bright green with a purple eyeball, all of them with reinforced ear comms to protect against Scarlet’s screams. They follow Silk’s call to a street cracked down the center, pavement warped and crumbled like a giant stomped on the road. 

“It’s like an earthquake,” Vanjie mutters. 

“Does anyone hear crying?” Scarlet asks. 

Vanjie hears faint wailing down the street, where a black car is upside down. “Shit, there’s a kid.”

The parents are unconscious and Vanjie doesn’t want to risk moving them. The girl is maybe four, screaming her little lungs out.

“Third Eye-”

“Yvie!”

“Whatever, call an ambulance,” Vanjie commands. “Frost, Scarlet, hold the car steady.”

She rips the door off and chucks it on the sidewalk. The girl’s cries pierce her ears. “I’m gonna help you,” she whispers as she undoes the car seat buckle and catches the girl.

“You’re alright.” Vanjie sets her down. She reaches for the emergency candy in her belt and hands her a chocolate bar, which she munches happily. 

“She’s bleeding,” Frost says, pointing to a cut on her forehead. 

“Paramedics are coming. A doctor can check her,” Yvie tells them. 

The girl squirms in fear. Vanjie scrapes her brain for any remnants of her brief and unsuccessful babysitting career as a 16-year-old. She’s prepared to comfort her like she comforts Brooke, minus the kisses, when the girl cries for her mommy and Vanjie freezes. _How can she compare to a mom? What if she makes things worse?_

Another small voice, one she ignores, rings in her head: _I want my mom too_. 

Frost drops down on one knee. “Doctors can be scary, huh?” She asks softly. 

The girl nods passionately. 

“I get scared of them too.”

“But you’re a superhero!” She exclaims in surprise, tears slowing. 

“I know. Even superheroes get scared. But you know what? Whenever I go to the doctor, my friend Vanjie stays with me, and it’s not so scary. And I-I’ll stay with you now, and it won’t be scary. Okay?” 

The girl nods as the ambulance pulls up. Frost stands beside the stretcher while the EMT’s bandage her forehead, tells her she’s so brave, and Vanjie melts at the exchange. She finds herself dreaming of a future for them--a future with a cozy little house and the animals at their feet, without secret labs and death visions looming over their heads. 

“I think this was someone with powers. There’s no damage anywhere else,” Silk reasons in her ear, cutting through the fantasy. “There’s a break-in at a warehouse two blocks over. Could be the same person.” 

“Ready?” Yvie asks. 

“Ready,” Vanjie answers, and they take off, meeting an old industrial warehouse, windows boarded up, paint peeling and grimy. 

“It looks abandoned,” Frost says. “Why would someone break in?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” Vanjie leads them through the rusty door. 

The inside is clearly _not_ abandoned. There’s shiny lab tables covered with vials and chemicals, armchairs against one wall, and a fridge in the corner. 

They’ve barely entered when the door slams shut. Vanjie pulls with all her strength, but it doesn’t budge. 

Her fire, Frost’s ice, and Scarlet’s sonic-screams all bounce off harmlessly. They try to reach Silk and receive crackling static.

“We’re stuck,” Yvie states plainly. 

“No shit, Sherlock!” Vanjie snaps. “Funny you couldn’t see us getting stuck but you got no trouble seeing me die!”

“_For the thousandth time_, it doesn’t work like that!”

“How long before Silk realizes something's up and comes to get us?” Vanjie shifts gears. 

“Time is a construct.”

“Fuck off, Yvie!” Vanjie and Scarlet bark together. 

“This was a trap,” Yvie says calmly.

“Again, no shit.”

“No, think about it. Comms blocked? The walls being fire and ice and Scarlet-proof? They wanted us specifically.”

“Who, though?” Vanjie softens. “And why us?”

There’s light tapping on her shoulder. She spins around to see Frost, sweat beading on her forehead. “Windows,” she says quietly. 

“Windows!” She exclaims in realization. “Alright,” Vanjie waves the others over. “The windows are boarded up. We can break through, we just need a way up.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice says suddenly. 

Two men appear out of the shadows, one in bright yellow, one in muddy brown. 

“Who the hell are you?” Vanjie demands. “You got some ugly-ass costumes. You look like a damn banana.”

“Call me Shockwave,” the man in yellow says. 

“Quake,” replies the man in brown. 

“Am I supposed to know you and your cheesy as hell names?” If she distracts them long enough, the others can escape.

“You don’t, but _she_ does,” Quake jabs at Frost. 

Vanjie does _not_ like where this is going. 

Frost’s head snaps up. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well, maybe I misspoke. Precious little Frost wasn’t allowed to see us.”

“I’m surprised you’re still functioning,” Shockwave taunts. “I thought your brain would be mush by now. That’s what happened to the one before you. The General put her out of her misery. But I think we’ll have some fun with you,” he sneers. He rushes at Frost, whipping out a knife and holding it against her throat as she quivers.

“If you hurt her...if you even touch her, I swear to God I’ll kill you,” Vanjie feels the heat rising, hands erupting into flame.

“Anybody moves, your girlfriend gets it,” Shockwave threatens. The flames die out. 

“I-I don’t-” Frost starts.

“You don’t know us, but we know you,” Quake says. “We made the drugs that _made you_. We spent _years_ on them. Then the General stole our ideas and used them on you and his other pets. We never got any credit. It all went to you. And you didn’t even deserve it.”

It hits Vanjie like a truck. Two scientists that made drugs at the lab. Two missing employees from last month. _But it can’t be. They’re dead, Silk had proof--_

“But guess what?” Shockwave tosses the knife away and shoves Frost to the ground. “You’re not the only one with powers now.” 

Circuits of lightning buzz around his hands. He forms the crackling tendrils into a ball and aims it at Frost, who hasn’t moved. She has that blank, far-away look in her eyes that still scares Vanjie no matter how many times she sees it. She’s trapped in her mind, and Vanjie can’t get her out. 

_She won’t even know it’s coming_.

Shockwave rears his arm back and she launches a fireball. It distracts him enough for Yvie to lunge at him and Scarlet to go after Quake, the noises faint and distant as Vanjie rushes toward Frost. 

There is no recognition or awareness in the green eyes. All she can do is wait for Frost—Brooke, really—to come back to her. She moves Frost into her lap and takes her hand, ice-cold and clammy, forcing down the fear as the seconds tick by and the fight rages on.

Frost bolts up, head whipping around wildly. 

“You’re okay,” Vanjie soothes quickly. “I’m here.” She helps Frost control her breathing. She squeezes her hand tighter, feels her pulse slow. 

“They escaped through the back and we lost them,” Scarlet mutters, appearing from a corner of the warehouse. Her lip is bleeding but she’s fussing over Yvie, who looks unharmed and swats her worried hands away. 

Their concerned gazes burn into her, and she shifts to cover Frost better. They don’t know what happened to her and Vanjie plans to keep it that way. 

The door flies open with a clang. Silk stands in the doorway, bolt-cutters in hand. 

“Get in the car,” she barks.

Vanjie helps Frost into the car, allowing herself a sigh of relief once they’re speeding away. But she knows the relief won’t last. 

A storm is coming.  
\---

It’s a quiet night. They’ve hardly said two words since Silk’s call that Shockwave and Quake match the descriptions of the two supposedly dead employees, and Brooke’s voice is hoarse when it tickles Vanessa’s ear. 

“Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready to read my file.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Frost and Vanjie had to deal with the aftermath of Yvie's vision and met new villains with ties to Brooke's past.  
Now: More about Brooke's time at the lab, plus some Thanksgiving ridiculousness because I’m a big hoe for fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the great feedback on Chapter 2! This chapter is a little angsty, but I hope you like it! Any feedback you have would be amazing, it really means a lot to me.  
***This chapter has a mild panic attack, implied abuse, and discussion of medication.***  


_I’m surprised you’re still functioning._

_We made the drugs that made you._

_Precious little Frost._

She throws the weighted blanket off with a sigh, Vanessa following. “Can’t sleep either?”

Brooke shakes her head. 

“I want to read it now.” She’s been tossing and turning since she told Vanessa she was ready, and she’s ready _now_. She _has_ to know. She digs through her dresser. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. You’ll do it with me? Please?”

Brooke can lift a car over her head, but nothing could ever be heavier than this folder. 

“Of course.” They drop down at the kitchen table. 

Brooke has been picturing this moment since she asked Nina for advice, the older woman’s voice filling her head. 

_The file might give you some closure. But, given what happened last time, it’s likely it could cause another flashback. We could look at it here, or you can do it on your own if you’d like, but be aware you might respond negatively_.

It’s what she figured Nina would say, an answer that wasn’t really an answer. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay? Promise?” Vanessa asks, grabbing her hand. 

“Promise.”

Her free hand flips the folder open. The vaguely familiar words burn her eyes as she wades through medical terms of the injuries from the plane crash last March. A broken leg, broken arm, 3 broken ribs, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, and several cuts to her body. Does she feel the pain from those broken bones now, or is she imagining it? She touches the thick white scar on her chest absently.

She suddenly remembers a drainage tube between her ribs (she has a small scar there too) and the long scar down her chest, and white tabs stuck to her skin, connected to monitors that beeped too loud, and pain like someone had carved her chest open and pieced it together with Scotch tape. Then the doctor put something in her IV, and it all went black. 

“You good?”

Brooke jumps. She’d forgotten Vanessa was there. “Yeah. So far it’s just what happened after the crash.”

_Subject name removed from flight list. No survivors. Flight list not released, subject will be presumed dead if any inquiries. Subject’s public records here (pgs 2-8), scrubbed from databases_. 

She turns the page. Scans of her birth certificate and driver’s license. _She’s Canadian?_ A fight between her and Vanjie runs through her head, Vanjie grinning and teasing her for saying “soar-y”.

Newspaper clippings. Maybe there’s something about her before, or her family— she hits two obituaries. _Her parents._ She can’t read the rest. She just can’t. 

Brooke should feel something, she knows she should. But she can’t _remember_. Nothing at all, not even a flash. It’s just an empty space inside her where she knows the memories _should_ be. 

She moves on hastily. _Hytes New Co-Director of Toronto Ballet Company_. She remembers the feeling of her feet in ballet shoes, but co-director? 

The clippings are ghosts of her old life and she can’t take the haunting anymore. Brooke moves to lists of dates, starting when they took her and continuing until this summer. Her dosages, her exams, her training, her missions. The first rows cover her progress healing and responding to the drugs. Drugs that the two men she met hours ago had made for her and countless others. Her stomach twists painfully and she jumps ahead. 

_5/30/2018: Subject at healthy weight, physically approved to begin training. 10% accuracy with ice blasts._

Brooke remembers the row of bright red targets. His voice thunders in her ears. _“You have until October to get half those targets.” It’s a command. _

_8/13/2018: Subject having nightmares, inquiring about old life. Subject sedated, given 100mg dosage in IV overnight. Had no memory of asking questions after waking._

She skips over training logs, punishments, and medical data. It’s like reading about someone else. She has vague images of the events, but they’re getting stronger and clearer as she reads. 

_10/1/2018: Subject achieved 65% target accuracy, no punishment required_. 

“Maybe that’s enough.”

“I’m f-fine.”

_11/19/2018: Training complete. 100% accuracy, blast strength increased. Dosage (10mg) steady and effective. Subject compliant and approved for field missions._

It’s all here. Labs she’d broken into. Weapons and technology she’d stolen. Every injury, every new drug sample. Records of fights with Black Diamond, with Shuga Rush, with--her heart skips a beat--Vanjie. 

And the last one. The very last one before Vanessa saved her and took her away from them. 

_7/7/2019: Vitals steady. Subject compliant. Dosage to remain doubled until further notice._

“Brooke?” She can hardly hear Vanessa. 

“These are all the bad things I did. ”

“Baby, no. Those things weren’t you.”

She shakes her head, heart straining her chest.

_“You want to make us proud on your first mission, don’t you?”_

__

__

_She nods._

_“Remember, if you fail, that’s bad. You know what happens when you’re bad.”_

_“I won’t fail, General.”_

“Brooke!”

Her lungs are on fire, burning all her air. _5 things she can see._

She sees the kitchen wall across from her but it’s tilted--Vanessa is holding her tightly, stopping her from falling off the chair she’s half-out of. She pulls herself upright, eyes absorbing the wooden table as her breathing slows. 

“Are you okay?” Vanessa tenderly brushes sweaty hair off Brooke’s forehead.

“Y-Yeah.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“So do you,” Brooke says quietly. All Vanessa does is take care of her, worry about her, and Brooke knows she hasn’t done enough to help, especially with the vision. Vanessa’s been through bad shit like her and is suffering in ways Brooke can’t imagine, but she’s always so strong, iron forged in fire--

“Less thinking, more sleeping,” Vanessa insists, leading Brooke to bed.

Their bodies intertwine under the blankets, but neither sleeps.  
\---

“Brooke, come here!” Vanessa yells around a mouthful of pumpkin brownie, tapping on the window. 

On the street below, a sea of kids in bright colors weave in and out of pumpkins and decorations. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to look at, until-

“Are they…”

Vanessa nods. 

Two little girls head down the sidewalk. One wears a red suit with a _V_ on the chest, the other in familiar royal blue, and she can just see the neon _F_. 

“We’re legit heroes now, baby,” Vanessa grins, but her tears mirror Brooke’s own. 

Their lips meet and Vanessa tastes like chocolate. 

She thinks it’s the first time they’ve both forgotten about the vision.  
\---

There’s been small earthquakes and electrical damage around the city, but no sightings of Quake or Shockwave. 

Their nights are spent tackling common criminals beneath an inky sky. 

She watches Vanjie scream at robbers and would-be murderers while desperately beating the crap out of them like it’s the only thing reminding her she’s still alive. The only thing _keeping_ her alive. 

Vanessa is suffering but Brooke has no idea how to help. 

It's like watching someone drown but being unable to save them. 

Vanessa isn’t eating. Her eyes are rimmed with shadows. Her skin is painted purple and blue from all the fighting. 

She doesn’t want to talk about it, and Brooke doesn’t want to force her. 

Vanessa is close to breaking, and as much as Brooke wants to shatter, she can’t. 

Sometimes she can’t even look at Vanessa without wanting to cry because she may never see her again. 

Brooke’s heart is made of glass, but she needs to let it ice over before Vanessa burns herself out. 

Because even though they have time, Brooke feels like she’s losing Vanessa already.  
\---

It’s probably a stupid idea, but it has A’Keria’s blessing, so there’s hope. 

Brooke works while Vanessa showers. She moves chairs and couch cushions and blankets until she has a sturdy blanket fort. She arranges fluffy pillows underneath, lays out the potato-chip cookies she’d made, and gets _The Notebook_ set up. 

Brooke is waiting when she emerges from the bathroom in her pajamas. “I have a surprise,” she says, covering Vanessa’s eyes. “Sorry about the cold hands.”

“I’m used to it. And there better not be any haunted house shit in here. Halloween’s over.”

“Nothing scary, I promise.” She removes her hands and watches Vanessa’s eyes get big, Brooke’s heart growing with them. 

“Brooke.” Her hand goes to her mouth. “How did you...A’Keria,” she answers herself as she slides under the fort. “Damn. I love you so much. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Brooke says as she nestles beside her. “So, um, I wanted to ask how you’re doing? Be honest.”

Vanessa shrugs and stares at the cookies. Brooke’s never seen her at such a loss for words. “I...I don’t know. I’m pissed--not at Yvie, it’s not her fault--but at everything, I guess, and I’m confused and sad and really fucking tired of it all, honestly.” 

Brooke nods. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But if you want to talk-”

“I know you want to help, but I don’t want to talk. Please.” Her voice gets small and Brooke’s heart aches for her. “I usually love screaming about my problems and feelings and shit, and I know everyone thinks it’ll help to talk about it, but I just can’t. I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“It’s fine,” she sighs. “I just want to watch this movie and have you hold me.”

“Of course.” She presses play as Vanessa curls into her side, Brooke’s arms steadying around her, feeling how tense she is.

It didn’t go quite as she planned, but Vanessa falls asleep with a smile on her face, so it wasn’t a total failure.  
\---

“You seem a little distracted. Anything you want to talk about?” Nina’s voice drips with concern and Brooke wants to tell her. She _should_ tell her. 

She shrugs, fingers digging into the squeeze ball. 

“Anything at all?”

“Meds,” Brooke mumbles, finally bringing them up like she’d told Vanessa she would a month ago. 

“Something in particular about them?”

Another shrug. 

“Can you give me a little something to go on?” Nina asks gently. 

“I think I want to take them,” Brooke says eventually, eyes on her lap. 

If Nina is surprised, she hides it well. “Okay. Did something happen that caused you to want them? You seem a little hesitant, and I want to make sure you’re confident and comfortable before I prescribe anything.”

She’s about to shrug again when she can’t keep it quiet anymore. “I...I’m just sick of it! I’m sick of sweating in the grocery store and thinking I’m gonna have a heart attack when I leave the house! I’m sick of the panic attacks and the headaches and not sleeping and I…” The outburst quickly drains her and her next words are a whisper. “I just want to be better.”

Nina is quiet.

“I’m s--I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t mean to.”

“You don’t have to apologize for feeling.” Nina pauses. “Brooke, I’m so incredibly proud of you. I want to say that first because I think you need to hear it.”

Tears spring in Brooke’s eyes. _Nina was_ proud _of her_. 

“I understand why you’re upset, and why you’re scared. Anyone would be after what you’ve been through. But if you feel ready, I do think medication would help you.”

“But if I…” Her voice trembles as she releases a fear she hasn’t even told Vanessa. “If I take them, doesn’t it mean I’m not good enough? That I’m weak?”

“Oh, Brooke,” Nina says softly, and her eyes look slightly damp. “Not at all. You’re doing so well. There’s absolutely no shame in needing help. Asking for help and taking medication shows how strong you are, how hard you’re working to get better.”

Nina passes her the tissues and Brooke no longer hides her tears. “I’m ready,” she confirms. 

Nina smiles. “There’s one more thing I want you to try.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow.

“I want you to try not to apologize when you're here.”

Nina might as well have asked her to pilot a rocketship. 

“I know it’s a lot, and I don’t expect you to do it immediately,” Nina amends at Brooke’s bewildered expression. “It’s just something I want you to try.”

Brooke nods.

“And Happy Thanksgiving!” Nina crows.  
\---

She and Vanessa wake at sunrise. 

“Please tell me you don’t play Monopoly on Thanksgiving,” Brooke begs as they season the turkey.

“Oh no, that’s for birthdays only.”

“Thank God.” 

“On Thanksgiving and Christmas we do bingo.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Mmm, you haven’t played with Silk. The bitch uses six cards. She used to keep a marker in her pocket and change the numbers. _And_ she has to call out the numbers herself because she doesn’t trust us.”

“So I guess I’ll hide the valuables?”

Vanessa laughs and kisses her cheek. 

Brooke knows what she’s thankful for.  
\---

Silk barges in an hour early presenting her sweet potato casserole like it’s made of gold.

“Thank God we got Brooke to make the pies. Last year A’Keria was in her health-food phase and tried to poison us with low-fat nonsense,” Silk grumbles. “I almost wasted away.”

“And she brought that green shit white people love,” Vanessa adds.

“Kale?” Brooke guesses. 

“That’s it.”

“She better not mess with my mashed potatoes. Last year she put cauliflower in them. Says you can’t taste the difference. Believe me,” Silk pats her chest proudly, “_I_ can taste it.”  
\---

“Everything good here?” A’Keria checks, glancing at the food covering every inch of counter surface.

“Yeah, I just hope Scarlet and Yvie like it.”

“Girl, you could go on the Food Network,” she declares, pointing to the pie-crust leaves on top of the pumpkin pie. “Everyone’s gonna love it.” A’Keria pats her arm in reassurance and the calm runs through her immediately. Brooke smiles in thanks, and A’Keria winks.  
\---

“A’Keria, these potatoes are so good. What the hell is in them?” Yvie asks and Silk nods with her mouth full of them. 

“Just butter and cream.” She pauses, grinning devilishly at Silk. “And cauliflower.”

Silk almost chokes. “You lying hoe!” She grabs a serving spoon and chases A’Keria around the table while the rest of them roar with laughter. 

Brooke catches Vanessa’s eye, and she knows they’re thinking the same thing: Please don’t ever let this end.  
\---

After a 2-hour bingo game resulting in 3 ripped cards, 2 spilled cups of coffee, one marker hurled out the window, Yvie flinging whipped cream in Scarlet’s hair, Silk almost swallowing a bingo ball, Brooke launching walnut shells like missiles, and Vanessa’s pumpkin pie fork nearly taking out A’Keria’s eye, everyone heads home. 

“Brooke, I almost forgot,” Silk says as she leaves. “That Plastique girl? I found her.”  
\---

She bounces her leg in her and Vanessa’s favorite coffee shop, because Nina had suggested they go somewhere she felt comfortable. 

“You okay?” Vanessa asks. Brooke felt fine doing this without Nina, but there’s no way she’s doing it without Vanessa, even though Brooke feels guilty for dragging her along to something about her when they could be focusing on Vanessa. 

“Yeah. It’s...she knew me before, you know? Not me now. And I’m not who I used to be. I don’t even know who I used to be.”

“Well, maybe you can’t focus on who you were. Because you are who you are now, and you don’t need to be anyone else. And for the record, I like who you are now a whole lot,” Vanessa bats her eyelashes and Brooke feels warmth spread through her. 

Plastique looks exactly like she did in Brooke’s dreams--long black hair and a face so delicate it could be a doll’s. 

She bursts into tears when she sees Brooke, touching her arm like she can’t believe she’s real. _Which she probably can't_, Brooke realizes. _She thought I was dead_.

She gives Plastique the Silk-approved story: Brooke survived the plane crash with severe memory loss, met Vanessa, and has been trying to regain her memory. It’s not a total lie, but Brooke still sweats as she tells it, even though Plastique believes it and cries again halfway through. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t look for you. They said no one survived and I never thought…”

“Of course you didn’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Brooke, it’s my fault you were on the plane,” Plastique says suddenly, voice thick.

“What do you mean?”

“I was supposed to be on it, but there was a mix-up and there wasn’t enough seats, so I was gonna take a later flight. You wanted to stay with me, but I told you to go…”

For just a second, Brooke considers how _easy_ it would be. To blame Plastique, to have someone to hate for putting her on that plane and in the lab’s hands. But she can’t. It’s not Plastique’s fault, just like it’s not her fault. Nina always tells her it’s no one’s fault but the lab’s, and it’s never felt as true as it does now.

“No,” Brooke says firmly. “Nina--she’s my psychiatrist--she told me if you wouldn’t blame someone else for something, you shouldn’t blame yourself for it either. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you,” Brooke’s voice is fierce as she grips Plastique’s hand. 

Plastique nods, wiping her tears. 

Plastique had been an intern at the ballet company that Brooke was co-director of. Brooke had danced professionally with the same company for 6 years. She was leaving on her first tour as co-director when the plane went down. 

Vanessa’s eyes silently ask if she remembers any of this. She remembers twirling across a stage, costumes light against her skin. She remembers feeling _free_. 

Plastique pulls out her phone. “Here’s a picture of you when you danced.” 

Brooke sees herself on the screen but can’t quite believe it’s her. She’s in white from her tiara to her pointe shoes, lacey costume on her lean body, hair pulled into a bun. She looks _confident_, so far from the Brooke who flinches at loud noises and stutters when ordering food that they’re hardly the same person. 

“I’m loving this short hair on you, girl. You cut it right before the tour. I’m glad you kept it,” Plastique says. 

Brooke’s never thought about it. It was short when she woke up at the lab, and they had kept it like that so it wasn’t in the way for her training or their medical exams. She likes it short and A’Keria trims it for her. 

They talk for another hour, and Plastique promises to keep in touch. 

Brooke is quiet on the way home, her mind buzzing.

“You alright?” Vanessa asks. “That was probably a lot, huh?”

She nods. She doesn’t know if she should miss the Brooke in that picture when she doesn’t really know that person. She doesn’t know if she should try to be more like that Brooke. 

She thinks of what Vanessa said. Maybe it’s not about who she was. Maybe she doesn’t need to be anyone else. 

Just being herself is enough.  
\---

The last day of November dawns unusually bright. 

Brooke stands over the sink with a pill in her hand. She looks out the window and her stomach drops, pill slipping through her fingers. 

She feels the urge to run outside, let the flakes melt on her tongue, let the cold steal her breath and freeze her cheeks. 

But she doesn’t.

Because it’s the first snowfall of the season, and they’re running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
(Also, just as an FYI, Brooke has the lesbian hair from the S11 finale).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke read her file and found out more about her life as the snow starts to fall  
Now: Vanessa reaches her breaking point, and they go another round with Quake and Shockwave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback and support of this fic, it truly does mean a lot to me. Also, thank you Kite for helping me out and answering my questions about this chapter!  
I want to apologize in advance for the angst in this one, but fluff is coming soon, I promise!  
*This chapter has mention of alcohol, violence, and mild injury*  
I would really appreciate any feedback or comments you have!  


“You can seriously reach that?” Vanessa screeches as Brooke puts the star on top of the tree.

“Yeah, why?” She steps back and takes in Vanessa’s tiny frame. “Oh.”

“Yeah, Mary,” Vanessa laughs. “I almost broke my neck standing on a chair last year.”

It’s the first day of December and Christmas music is blasting, curtains closed as they pointedly avoid the inch of snow on the ground. 

(Yvie said there’d be more snow. It’s fine. She’s fine.)

“You took your meds today, right?” She asks Brooke. 

“Yes.”

Brooke takes her medication every morning and Vanessa’s heart fills with pride each time. Brooke works so hard with Nina and communicates her feelings a little better, and she doesn’t apologize for her nightmares anymore. Vanessa’s been watching her closely to see if anything’s changed with the meds, even though Nina said it could take a while for them to work, and not all medications work for everybody. 

Vanessa plugs in the tree, reds and blues and yellows and whites twinkling brightly, reflecting off the shiny bulbs. 

“One more thing,” Brooke says, pulling fake mistletoe from behind her back and holding it above them. 

“You cheesy little ice princess.” Vanessa stretches up to kiss her.  
\---

Two days later the clock by the cemetery stops working.

Exactly one minute after 11. 

“What the hell does this mean?” Vanessa demands, barging into Silk’s office for the emergency debriefing she’d ordered. She turns to Yvie. “You said it stopped at 11:03, not 11:01.”

“I-I don’t know,” Yvie admits. “The clock isn’t cracked either, like it was in the vision. My visions have never been wrong like this.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Wait for the fucking clock to crack and move 2 minutes?” Her hands are itching to let flames dance across them, but she forces it down. She moves closer to Brooke so her icy skin will prevent an eruption. 

“I don’t know. But for now, I think you need to be extra careful,” Silk says soberly. 

_Be careful?_ Vanessa wants to scream. There has to be more she can do. 

She just doesn’t know what.  
\---

She tries to distract herself. She bakes cookies with Brooke. They curl up under blankets and watch movies with the pets at their feet. She even gets hooked on the _Great British Bake-Off_, Brooke’s favorite when she’s anxious or needs to calm down after a really bad nightmare or panic attack. But even listening to the contestants talk charmingly about cakes is starting to fail. All the distractions are failing. No amount of cookies or make-out sessions on the couch behind closed curtains can hide the fact that it’s getting colder, that the snow hasn’t cleared. 

_She’s in her apartment, walls starting to buckle from the heat. Smoke clouds her eyes, hysterical screaming assaults her ears. She has to follow it, she has to help them, but she can’t see--_

Her eyes open into darkness and she is relieved, the dark safer than the bright glow of the flames. The room is silent except for her violent heartbeat. Brooke is still sleeping soundly. Vanessa carefully eases her arms around Brooke, trying not to think that each time could be the last.  
\---

She’s starting to feel that she’s not good anymore. Before, it was about saving people. Now, it’s like if she puts one more criminal behind bars, there’s one less person that could potentially kill her. Saving people is secondary. Why even bother when she’s just going to die anyway? She feels awful about it, that she cares more about herself than the people she’s supposed to protect, but she can’t deny it. 

She’s sure Nina would tell her it’s reasonable to feel that way. She almost caves and makes an appointment but slams the phone down. 

In some twisted way, she wishes it would just happen already. That the vision would pass, leaving her either dead or alive, and the whole thing can just be _over_, because the waiting is the worst thing. 

Maybe it’s the exhaustion that makes her pick a fight with Brooke. Or maybe it’s the anger poisoning her. It’s probably not the whiskey, because that was hours ago. She doesn’t even know who said what first, only that she’s ready to answer Silk’s call and Brooke is worried, and it’s like Vanessa suddenly drops into her body and becomes aware that she’s _yelling_ at Brooke, which she’s never done. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Brooke!”

“Vanessa, please, I-I just think you should be more careful.” She picks at her cuticles. 

“Careful went out the window when Yvie put a fucking expiration date over my head!”

“You-you drank today.”

“It was just a glass of whiskey.” That’s a lie. It was four. 

“I know you’re scared-”

“You think because you go to Nina you’re a therapist now? Is that it?” She tugs on her boots so hard they almost rip. 

“No, I just-”

“So what about those people in trouble? You want me to let them die?” She leaves out the fact that yesterday _she_ would have let them die, but now that her suit is on, she wants to save them. It’s just what she has to do.

“I don’t care about them!” Brooke’s hands are shaking.

It’s quiet. 

“I-I didn’t mean that,” Brooke says softly, hand raking through her hair. “I’m sorry. I do care, I do, I just...look, it’s Silver Steel, he’s hard to fight, I’ll come with you.” She quickly attaches her mask and grabs her suit. 

“No. You were holding me in the vision, remember? I’m probably safer without you.” 

Even with Brooke’s mask on she can see the absolutely gutted look in her eyes, and Vanessa regrets the words the second they’re out, shame burning inside her and making her tear up. She regrets every damn word she screamed at Brooke tonight. Everything she’s felt in the past few months--confusion, sadness, misery, exhaustion--is all boiling down to one thing: anger. Pure, red-hot anger, the type that led to crimes of passion, that led people to scream words they didn’t mean and hurt the ones they loved. The kind of anger that burns from the inside out, leaving nothing but ash. 

She jumps in Bertha and races off with no seatbelt, like if she gets away fast enough, she can pretend tonight never happened.  
\---

She heads downtown, where Silver Steel has crumbled an office building. She pulls people up out of the rubble and herds them all away, and thankfully there’s no deaths that she can see. She leads him into the empty park and lets Vanjie take over. Vanjie didn’t feel dazed and exhausted. Vanjie hadn’t been an absolute asshole to the person she loves more than anyone. Vanjie didn’t need to worry if she had just ruined the greatest thing she’s ever had. 

“Could you be a little more obvious with your name, buddy? I mean, Silver Steel, for someone with steel fists? Really?” She aims a punch at his chest. 

“Shut up.” 

“That’s origi--_fuck!_” His steel fist slams into her ribcage, and she hopes Silk’s bulletproof suit covers that, because her chest feels like it’s in pieces. 

She forces herself to straighten up, only to have his fist get her again, sending her crashing into frozen earth. 

Silver Steel hovers over her, his fist blocking out the sky. She closes her eyes, and she doesn’t fight. She just accepts it, like she used to accept the impending failure after a test she didn’t study for. If this is how she goes, that’s fine, though it sucks that she won’t even get to rub it in Yvie’s face that the vision was wrong--

The blow never comes.

She opens her eyes cautiously.

Moonlight glistens off the shiny ice crystals encasing his fist. 

A powerful ice blast arcs through the air and Silver Steel thuds against the ground. 

Frost holds her hand out to Vanjie, pulling her up. “You’re okay?”

She sucks in a painful breath, hand going to her ribs. “I’ll be fine. Brooke, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. When we get home, I need to give you a real apology. What I said to you…Look out!”

Silver Steel grabs Frost’s left arm and twists it behind her back while she struggles in his grip, and Vanjie hears something _pop_\--

Vanjie tears him off her, fists raining down in a blur. She keeps going until he drops to the ground unconscious, then rushes to Frost, who touches her shoulder gingerly and grimaces. 

“Are you okay? Tell me honestly.”

“M-my shoulder feels weird.”

Vanjie’s heart aches. “Get in the car.”  
\---

After 5 minutes of going back and forth over who a doctor should take care of first, she and Brooke sit in Ra’jah’s office, Vanessa holding ice on her bruised ribs while they wait for Ra’jah to fix Brooke’s dislocated shoulder. 

Whatever alcohol and drowsiness remained have cleared from her body, the image of Frost’s face paling and her eyes squeezing shut on the drive here sobering her instantly. 

_This is all her fault_. If she hadn’t been an idiot, Brooke wouldn’t be sitting here sweating over seeing a doctor. They would be home in bed eating cookies and chips. She has to be more careful, she understands now. She’s not the only one she’s putting in danger. 

Silk, Yvie, and Scarlet trickle in, and Vanessa grits her teeth. 

“Didn’t you upgrade my suit when you did Frost’s? Shouldn’t it have stopped the steel fist, since it’s bulletproof?” Vanessa accuses angrily before Silk can start screaming about her recklessness. 

“I _said_ it would. Absorb. Most. Of. The. Impact,” Silk forces out, taking the bait of an argument. “Which it did, by the way, or you’d have a lot worse than bruised ribs. That was mainly for Brooke, if I’m honest. She’s a damn bullet magnet.”

“Did you know bullets actually aren’t magnetic?” Yvie asks to blank stares. “Just a fun fact,” she shrugs. 

“I thought it was fun, honey,” Scarlet insists. 

“Hey, maybe all you hoes can get outta here and let a doctor see Brooke!” Vanessa shouts, seeing Ra’jah in the doorway. 

They clear out and Ra’jah walks in, Brooke immediately shrinking in fear. Vanessa takes her hand reassuringly. 

“So, it’s only a minor dislocation, and I can push it back into place. I’m gonna give you a mild sedative for the pain, okay?” Ra’jah reaches for a needle and Brooke recoils as far back as the chair allows. 

“No,” she gasps, breathing shallow, “I don’t want it.”

“Is it the needle? It’s okay, I’ll be right here,” Vanessa promises.

Brooke bites her lip. “It’s not that, it’s...it’ll make me sleepy, like I’m not in control. Just-just give me Tylenol or something. Vanessa, please. I can’t feel like that again.”

Brooke looks up at her, eyes desperate and trusting. Vanessa doesn’t want to see Brooke in any more pain, but how can she refuse when Brooke is begging her, when she would rather feel that pain than feel like the lab is drugging her again?

She looks at Ra’jah. “You got any Tylenol?”

Ra’jah nods and leaves the room, returning with two pills and a cup of water. “You’re sure about this?” she confirms, standing near Brooke’s shoulder as she swallows the pills. 

Brooke nods. Vanessa squeezes her hand tightly. 

“Okay.” Ra’jah positions herself and Vanessa looks away as Brooke almost crushes Vanessa’s hand and grunts in pain, but it’s a lot faster than she thought and they both breathe easier. Ra’jah puts Brooke’s left arm in a sling to keep it steady for a few days, and promises there won’t be any lasting damage.

Relief she doesn’t deserve washes over her. Brooke shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. _Wouldn’t_ have gotten hurt if Vanessa had just listened. 

She pulls Brooke into the bathroom when they’re done. 

“I’m so sorry, Brooke. No, don’t say anything,” she interrupts as Brooke’s mouth opens. 

“I’m sorry I ran off like that and got you hurt. I’m so sorry for saying I’d be safer without you. I...I didn’t mean it. Brooke, honestly, I’ve never felt safer than I do when you’re around. You keep me safe and protect me even when I don’t deserve it. I mean, you showed up to help me tonight when I was awful to you. And I’m sorry for getting mad when you ask about my feelings. I know you’re trying to help. I don’t know what came over me, it was like I had no control. I’ve been so _angry_ lately...but that’s not an excuse for what I said to you. I’m so sorry.”

She wipes her eyes furiously. 

Brooke’s hand wraps around hers. 

“Vanessa, it’s alright. I’m fine, really. I know you didn’t mean to say what you did. Me getting hurt was an accident. I knew the risks when I went out.” She takes a breath. “I need to apologize too. What you must be feeling...I-I can’t imagine the stress you’re under. I get why you’ve been angry and why it made you act out. If you want my help or you want to talk, I’m here, but I understand I need to not push so hard. And I shouldn’t have tried to make you stop helping people. Th-that was wrong. I’m sorry.” Brooke’s eyes are so sincere it takes her breath away. “I love you so much, Ness. I love you forever.”

She carefully eases Brooke down into a kiss, and things feel _right_ again, more right than they have in months.  
\---

A’Keria is waiting when they’re done and leads them into the conference room. Nina is at the head of the table and Vanessa immediately knows what this is but A’Keria has already shut the door, blocking her escape. 

She glares at Silk. “An intervention?! You set up a _fucking intervention_?”

“Please don’t think of this as an intervention,” Nina says with frustrating patience. “We’re just going to talk a bit. If there’s something you want to share, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. Would you like to take a seat?” 

So this isn’t an intervention. It’s her own personal hell. 

Vanessa sighs and throws herself in the seat beside Scarlet, Brooke following as A’Keria joins Yvie and Silk. 

“Would anyone like to start?” Nina asks. 

“You need to be more careful, you could have gotten yourself killed!” Yvie snaps. 

“Okay, maybe we can use a kinder tone in the future, but let’s start there,” Nina says. “So-”

“You think I don’t know that, Yvie? I learned my damn lesson, I don’t need you down my neck!”

“Let’s all take a breath,” Nina suggests, watching them expectantly until they do it. Vanessa feels slightly less ready to explode. 

“Vanessa,” Nina continues. “Would you like to share anything about how you’re feeling, what you’ve been going through?” The amount of patience this woman has is quite honestly unbelievable. 

She shrugs. “Mad, I guess. I mean, I’m possibly gonna die soon. How am I supposed to feel?” She mutters with defeat. 

“You have every right to feel what you’re feeling,” Nina assures her. 

“Can I say something?” Yvie asks. 

“Of course.” 

“I get the whole mad-at-the-world thing you’ve got going on.” Yvie takes a breath. “Two years ago I found out I have this connective tissue disorder. It makes my joints super-painful sometimes. I won’t be able to do this hero thing forever. This was right after I started getting the visions. I had no idea what I was doing. I was never fast enough to save anyone. So between my condition and being shitty at saving people, I figured, what’s the point? Why try to save people when I can’t and I have this condition anyway?”

Vanessa nods in understanding. 

“Then I started getting more visions, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all these people in trouble, who didn’t have a _chance_ because I wasn’t trying anymore. And I realized that just because I can’t do it forever, it doesn’t mean I shouldn't do it at all. So I tried harder, actually starting saving people. I want to just help people as long as I can. So, yeah, I get why you’re pissed.” She looks hesitantly at Vanessa, expression kind.

“Thank you sharing that, Yvie. Do you have anything to add, Vanessa? It’s perfectly okay to say no.”

She sighs. “I thought that way after the fire,” she confesses quietly. “When I got my powers, I didn’t want to use them. I was pissed. Why the hell should I save random people when I couldn’t save my own family? Why save someone else’s family when I couldn’t have mine? But that was the answer, I guess. Because I didn’t _want_ anyone to lose their family. I probably...” she trails off. 

Nina nods encouragingly. 

“I probably blamed myself for losing them. Because if I hadn’t invited them over, they wouldn’t have died.” She’s surprised how easily the words leave her. It’s like they’ve been poisoning her heart all these years, just waiting for her to accept the antidote that would release them. She feels strangely lighter.

“I know you think that was your fault, but it was completely out of your control, Vanessa,” Nina’s voice is firm and Vanessa _believes_ her. She knew, logically, that it wasn’t her fault, but it’s nice to have someone else say it.

“I, um, I know how it feels to blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault,” Brooke says quietly. “I-I’m not ready to talk about it with everyone, but my past experiences haven’t been that great.”

“Jesus, am I the only one that didn’t get the tragic backstory memo?” Scarlet mumbles. “Sorry, that was probably mean, wasn’t it?” 

But they all burst into laughter, and Vanessa feels better. She really does.  
\---

The first thing she does is throw out all the liquor. She _knows_ she won’t do it again, but she doesn’t even want the temptation. 

She sinks into a routine. She cuts down on patrols and only goes with the group, like a preschooler on a field trip. She cooks dinner alone a few nights, then with Brooke when her sling comes off. They make breakfast for dinner and roll out homemade pizza dough and encourage each other to eat. She walks Riley and pets the cats and kisses Brooke every chance she gets. 

_Her mother is laughing at one of Vanessa’s work stories when the glass shatters._

_Someone screams. Broken glass is all that remains of her windows, and she peers out the open gaps into the night. The chemical plant across the street is lost behind a cloud of hazy gray smoke tinged with green. Red-orange flames rise out of the smoke, headed straight for her apartment. _

_The smoke hits first, a burning sensation spreading through her veins as the gray-green blur touches her skin and throws the apartment into darkness. She tries to find her mom but she’s so dizzy, and flames are licking at the walls like a serpent’s tongue--_

She runs to the bathroom and greedily gulps water like it can put out the fire in her mind. If she has that dream one more time she might smash something. She takes slow breaths that are _not_ thick with smoke but do send bolts of pain through her still-bruised chest. When she comes back, Brooke is sitting up in bed, low lamplight illuminating her sobs. 

She rushes to her side, her own dream forgotten. She cautiously puts a hand on her back, since touch sometimes scared Brooke when she couldn’t distinguish dream from reality. She leans into it, though, and Vanessa rubs slow circles. “Baby, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

Brooke nods shakily. She can barely get the words out. “Th-they caught me and said I’d nev-never s-see you again, and I wo-woke up and you weren’t there and I thought…”

She feels like her heart is being ripped out. That might actually hurt _less_. She lets her own tears fall and pulls Brooke into the tightest hug she can manage. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

She’ll do everything in her power to keep that promise.  
\---

“Red velvet!”

“Cheesecake, bitch!”

“Momma wants red velvet!”

The brunch table is at war over what dessert they should have on Christmas (in addition to the 20 types of cookies Brooke’s already started) with A’Keria leading the cheesecake charge and Silk ready to die on the battlefield of red velvet. 

“We can have both?” Brooke offers, as Scarlet stops Silk from catapulting bacon at A’Keria. 

It’s 13 days to Christmas, and Vanessa wants to be optimistic. She gets Brooke a bunch of the cozy, oversized sweaters she loves, soft as a cloud, then orders some baking thing she had excitedly talked about when a chef used it on the Food Network. She gets her fuzzy pajamas with snowflakes and reindeer for her winter-loving, Canadian ass. One of the presents requires a lengthy phone call and a page full of notes, and one reduces her stomach to a ball of nerves. 

She hopes she gets to see Brooke’s face when she opens them.  
\---

They get their shot at Shockwave and Quake the next night, teaming up with Scarlet and Yvie. She vows to be careful, but they all know she can’t sit this one out. Not against powers like theirs. 

She doesn’t even realize it’s _that_ church until she sees the 11:01 staring down at her. It’s oddly comforting, seeing the wrong time. Even though it’s the scene from the vision, it feels _normal_. Vanjie doesn’t know if she expected to feel the presence of death or what, but all she feels is annoyed as the wind whips around, tangling her hair in front of her eyes. She gathers it into a ponytail, alarm bells sounding faintly in the back of her mind. 

“Where are these bums?” She demands, kicking through inches of snow. 

On cue, they appear from behind the church and saunter over. 

“Nobody move!” Quake orders, Shockwave brandishing balls of lightning. “We want to talk first.”

“Long time no see,” Vanjie mutters. “It was nice not looking at your busted faces.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Shockwave promises. “We had to get it just right, you see.”

“Get _what_ right?”

But he doesn’t answer. 

“We have an offer for you, Frost,” Quake says darkly. 

“I-I don’t want anything from you.” 

“You want to hear this one,” Quake promises. “All those years we spent working for you. We want you to work for us. Do our dirty work while we focus on our ideas. I bet you’re not feeling so well without your medicine. Probably having a lot of nightmares. Wouldn’t you like them to stop? Don’t you think you’d feel better if you had it again?” 

He pulls a syringe filled with blue liquid from his belt and Vanjie knows what he meant by getting it right. They want to drug her again, make her their pet. 

“I don’t want that,” Frost says firmly. 

“You might think that. But I know you do,” Shockwave says. “We left one little thing out. You come with us, or your girlfriend dies.”

And then he lunges at her, clenches an arm around her neck and lowers a lightning bolt beside her head, and the heat coming off it makes her sweat. 

No one moves. Frost’s eyes go wide. She bites her lip, and Vanjie knows. She’s going to say yes. She’s going to let them take her, all to keep her safe. 

Frost lifts her hands, and Vanjie’s heart tears. 

“You can have me,” she says. “Please don’t hurt Vanjie.”

“B-Frost, no! Don’t worry about me!” She yells uselessly. Frost is already walking over to Quake, whole body shaking.

She thinks to when they were enemies, when Frost had that cold, dead look in her eyes Vanjie thought was malice but was just the drugs numbing her emotions, stealing her identity. She thinks to that first night they spent in her bed, when her hands warmed Frost’s face, and the later realization she’d had that Frost probably couldn’t remember being touched by hands that didn’t hurt her. She thinks of Brooke flinching whenever she sees a doctor, looking over her shoulder everywhere they go to make sure they’re both safe. How she tries so hard to _stop_ doing those things. The nightmares where she cried in her sleep and re-lived things Vanessa couldn’t even imagine--

_No_. 

They’re not taking her, and Vanjie won’t let them use her against Frost--against _Brooke_. This ends _now_. 

She slams her boot down on Shockwave’s foot, and it’s enough to get her off him and into Yvie’s punches. She hurls fire at Quake, sending him flying backwards, syringe breaking, before he touches Frost. 

Vanjie throws her arms around Frost, who is still trembling, eyes damp. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she pants. “I couldn’t let them kill you…”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’re okay. Don’t be sorry. You’re not going with them. I won’t let anyone take you.”

The ground suddenly rumbles beneath them, a gap opening like a giant mouth and splitting them apart. Rocks and dirt fly into the air, and Vanjie covers her face to ward off the sharp edges. 

She looks wildly for Frost once the dust settles, and spots her on the other side of the 20-foot gap. She looks okay, but she turns and Vanjie’s heart clogs up her throat. There’s a small cut along her hairline slowly trickling blood down the right side of her face. 

_Brooke’s face was bleeding_, Yvie had said. _It can’t be. Not already._

“I’m going after Quake!” Scarlet calls, running into the woods. “Yvie’s with Shockwave!”

“Shockwave’s mine,” Vanjie insists. 

Frost nods. “I’ll go with Scarlet.”

Vanjie reaches out her hand, longing to touch Frost’s cold fingers, but the gap between them is as large as the ocean.“Be careful, alright? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Frost says. Her blue suit fades into the trees. 

Vanessa trudges around the front of the church to Shockwave and Yvie locked in battle. 

Lightning buzzes around his hands, and Vanjie feels the energy, the electricity, in the air. 

The clock is wrong, but three pieces of the vision are in place, and if this is it, Vanjie’s not going down without a fight. Or answers.

“Do you know what happened to the Memoriax formula?” It’s a shot in the dark, but if there’s even a chance, she has to take it.

He scoffs, landing a blow to Yvie’s side. “Trying to help your ice bitch? Please. We destroyed that months ago. It would have failed anyway. Everything about it was wrong. Would have scrambled her brain even more than we did,” he snickers as he swerves away from Yvie’s fist. 

She sighs. She senses he’s telling the truth; he’d never miss a chance to call out someone’s stupidity. Maybe it’s better Brooke didn’t take it when she had been tempted all those months ago. 

“Why’d you kill the other lab employees?” Vanjie demands, throwing flames. 

He lurches out of the way. “They were worthless. The General’s pets, just like Frost. But Quake and I are different,” he declares, and one of his bolts grazes her arm, her whole body buzzing with pain. So he was one of those average white dudes who thought he was _special_. Vanjie should’ve seen that one coming. 

She throws another fireball as he continues. “They followed the rules. They looked down on us. Would’ve turned us in if they knew we were experimenting. With them gone, no one would stop us from actually _using_ our inventions. No one would stop us from giving ourselves powers. And we did.”

“But what’s your point? You hated the lab, so you killed everyone there. You gave yourselves powers. Now what?” She inches closer, punching his nose with her sore arm and delighting in the blood that spurts out as Yvie kicks his back, but he’s up quickly, lightning around his hands preventing another move.

“We got our revenge. Now we make Frost suffer. She’s the last piece. After that?” He shrugs. “We do whatever we want.”

He hurls another ball of lightning and she throws herself on the ground, twisting her neck as it flies above her. Then she sees its path, in slow motion. The ball crackles through the air and bursts against the base of the clock tower. It forms a jagged crack in the wall that travels up to the face, splitting the porcelain and jostling the minute hand. 

Vanjie knows she shouldn't look. 

She doesn’t _need_ to look.

But she does anyway. 

11:03. 

A silent death bell. 

Yvie kicks his ribs, but Shockwave sends her sprawling across the snow, and she doesn’t move. He comes at Vanjie violently as she stands, and she’s not fast enough. She’s not fast enough and he avoids her fireball, and his lightning explodes in her chest, and it doesn’t let up. It zaps her energy, and she can’t even lift an arm to fight, collapsing as electricity tears through her body and her thoughts ignite.

_This isn’t happening. She’s going to eat both the cakes Brooke’s making for Christmas_.

Her blood is boiling from the electric current.

_This isn’t happening. She’s going to see that grin stretch across Brooke’s face when she opens her presents._

Her veins are frying. 

_This isn’t happening. She’s going to kiss Brooke again_.

Her heart is on fire. 

_Brooke_.

It all goes black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Yvie's vision came to pass  
Now: The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry about that cliffhanger! This chapter was SO hard to write, and I actually made myself tear up a few times. I hope it's not too long! The support and feedback has been absolutely amazing, and I would really appreciate it if you let me know what you think of this one! I really hope you like it! Also, thank you Kite for dealing with my questions yet again!  
*This does have injury, mentioned blood, mentioned abuse, and mild implied depression*  


Vanjie’s “I love you” swirls in Frost’s head as she blasts ice at Quake, Scarlet’s screams ineffective against his earplugs. 

“We gotta get those things out of his ears,” Scarlet pants, wiping blood off her mouth. “Then I can finish him.”

Frost nods, her own face sticky with blood. The ground beneath them is torn to shreds, dirt, rocks, and branches scattered among the snow.

“Ow, fuck,” Yvie crackles in her ear comm. “I knocked out Shockwave, but he fucked me up pretty good. Vanjie? Vanj- oh, shit,” Yvie’s last words are hushed, and Frost _knows_. Something’s wrong. 

“Y-Yvie?” Her voice quivers. She ducks behind a tree while Scarlet continues the fight. Her heart is pounding painfully fast, straining her ribs. “Did s--did something happen?”

It’s so quiet she wonders if the comm died. “You need to get over here.” 

“Go! I got this!” Scarlet insists, and Frost runs. 

The trees fade as she sprints, desperate to reach Vanjie but also not wanting to know what awaits. The clock tower guides her, a crack in the clock face slicing through her vision, and the time...she almost chokes on her heart. _Did that mean...no, no, please_. 

She feels like she’s walking through quicksand as she reaches Yvie, standing next to someone on the ground. A giant hand is squeezing her chest, cutting off air, but Frost isn’t even seeking any. 

She can’t look.

_No, no, please, no--_

“Brooke, I’m so sorry,” Yvie says softly. “I tried CPR, but she...I’m sorry.”

But Yvie doesn’t need to be sorry, because this isn’t happening. Because Vanessa’s not dead. Vanessa’s not dead, and she’s going to open the red silk robe Brooke got her because she loved robes but other fabrics made her too hot. She’s going to open the two presents Brooke’s been nervous about, and her grin will tell Brooke she was jittery for nothing. She’s going to stuff herself with cake and say it was worth it despite her stomachache. Vanessa is going to laugh and smile and look at Brooke with that gleam in her eyes and sneak food to the pets and make a mess while they cook dinner and she’s going to kiss her and curl up with Brooke in bed, because she’s not dead. 

Yvie steps back, and she forces herself to look down. 

Vanjie--Vanessa--lies on the hard snow, scorch marks on the chest and arm of her red suit, the red like blood against the bright white. Only there isn’t any blood. She isn’t moving, and Vanessa is never still. 

Frost drops, and by the time her knees sink into the snow, Frost has shattered and a shell of Brooke is all that remains. 

“Vanessa?” Her voice cracks like thin ice. 

She doesn’t answer. 

“Ness?”

Silence. 

“Please,” Brooke whimpers. 

Tears stream down her cheeks as a chill ravages her, heart plummeting below zero.

She should have done more. She shouldn’t have left Vanessa, should have wiped the blood off her face as soon as the rock struck her, shouldn’t have let herself believe they could simply avoid this. 

Shouldn’t have let herself believe she could have such happiness without it being ripped away from her. 

Vanessa’s eyes are closed, and Brooke gently peels away her mask. It reminds her of when Vanessa removed it for the first time, when Brooke looked into those eyes and was ready to tell her everything, to give Vanessa her entire heart, when Vanessa’s arms taught her what safety meant, and now her body convulses with sobs, world blurred by tears, as she selfishly realizes that those arms will never hold her again. 

That her very definition of safety is being erased. 

She pulls Vanessa into her arms, registering somewhere in her mind that this is the final piece of Yvie’s vision. She looks at Vanessa, usually full of color and sound and _life_, now dull and silent and--she can’t say it. 

_I love you. I love you more than anything. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you_. She can’t speak but her tears carry the message as they drip onto Vanessa’s face. She wipes them off her as even more fall. Somehow Vanessa’s cheeks are still warm, their heat beneath Brooke’s fingertips the only sign she can still feel at all. 

_Warm?_

Brooke’s heart speeds up, and she forces down the hope longing to thaw her frozen heart. She’s probably just imagining it. She doesn’t know science but she’s pretty sure Vanessa should _not_ be warm. She’s not breathing, and Brooke can’t feel a pulse. But Vanessa is warm. She lowers her ear to Vanessa’s chest. Is it her imagination, or does she hear electricity humming in her body?

An idea pops into her head. It probably won’t work. It probably _shouldn’t_ work; it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense, but the truth is nothing in her life has made sense since she woke up in that damn bed with a dozen tubes in her arm, and the only person that has ever brought clarity isn’t breathing, and Brooke will try anything. 

She eases Vanessa onto the snow and places both hands over her heart. She does the chest compressions A’Keria taught her, but she lets ice flow from her hands, watching as it travels through the hole in Vanessa’s suit and over the shiny burn on her chest, seeping into her body.

She’s never used her powers like this and she can feel herself weakening, her eyelids getting heavy as she lowers her lips to Vanessa’s and pushes air into her body, as she wills the ice to soothe the charred areas of Vanessa’s heart, to let her scorched arteries pulse anew, but she keeps going. 

She keeps going until she feels a faint thrum under her hands.

She keeps going until Vanessa’s gasping breath soars through the winter air, and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard. 

Vanessa coughs harshly and falls unconscious, but she continues to breathe. Her heart continues to beat. 

She’s alive. 

Brooke cradles Vanessa just to feel her heartbeat against her own chest. She lets herself be selfish again and soak in the fact that she won’t be left without Vanessa. That she won’t have to sleep in an empty bed, or make pancakes for one instead of two, or get a shot at the doctor’s without her warm hand to hold, or watch a movie without her cackling loudly. 

Because of all the things Brooke has come to know, how to live without Vanessa is not one of them.  
\---

She’s not sure how they end up at the base, her eyes seeing nothing but Vanessa’s chest as it rises and falls, her ears hearing nothing but Vanessa's breaths. 

The night passes in snapshots as Brooke’s chest tightens with worries about how frail Vanessa felt: Ra’jah tearing Vanessa out of her arms; Yvie trying to calm her; the snow and ice stuck to Brooke’s suit melting into a puddle at her feet; Brooke’s shivers fading to numbness as she paced the hallway, breath coming in fearful wheezes; Scarlet arriving; and Ra’jah finally bringing her to Vanessa. 

Vanessa is pale, almost as pale as the bandages on her arm and chest, but she’s alive. Her breaths are shallow and her heart is slow but she’s alive and Brooke finally unclenches her shoulders. 

She looks so tiny in the bed, like a child, and Brooke just wants to hold her. She wishes Vanessa was home in their bed, _safe_. She forces herself to remember that this isn’t the lab, that the wires and tubes are helping her even if they look scary. She wonders if this is how Vanessa felt when she got shot: completely helpless, unable to do anything but watch as monitors and medicine make sure Vanessa is okay. She wishes she could take Vanessa’s place, let the nest of wires run over her, transfer those burns to her skin so Vanessa didn’t have to feel any pain. 

Now that she knows Vanessa’s alright, it’s like every ache and ounce of exhaustion Brooke ignored hits her at once. Her head droops, too heavy to hold up as the room turns in circles. Her heart slows dangerously. Her knees turn to rubber, and Scarlet seats her in a chair by Vanessa’s bed. 

“You’re _freezing_,” Scarlet hisses, shooting a concerned glance at Yvie. 

“Always run cold,” she slurs. 

Yvie shakes her head. “Your lips are _blue_. The way you used your powers, and you’re still in that suit...you need a doctor.”

“Look at her hands,” Scarlet whispers. 

Brooke sees tiny ice fragments cresting up her skin, her fingertips tinged blue. She realizes that she can’t feel the ice or her fingers--can’t feel anything below her elbows or knees, actually--but she’s too sleepy and her head is too foggy to care. 

Even though she’d refused medical attention all night, she doesn’t have the energy to argue when Ra’jah enters, flanked by A’Keria and Silk, and she fights to keep her eyes open as a thermometer is slipped under her tongue. 

“Brooke, sweetie, we really need you to stay awake for us,” A’Keria’s voice is miles away. 

Ra’jah frowns as she removes the thermometer, and her face morphs into the doctor’s. 

A rough wail shreds Brooke’s throat. She wants to scream, tell him not to touch her, but the words are slippery in her mouth and all she manages are shuddering gasps, and she thinks she’s crying again. 

Is she going crazy? 

A’Keria’s trying to soothe her but her eyes are cold and gray like the General’s and suddenly he’s there, and Brooke doesn’t know where she is anymore, and she wants to push them both away but her arms won’t move, and she gratefully lets sleep take her.  
\---

Faint throbbing in her left hand sinks beneath the surface and tugs her from unconsciousness. She cracks an eye open and glimpses a tube. An IV. 

Her breath halts in her throat. She’s in so much trouble; they only gave her an IV when she was really bad. Did she ask for her name again? 

The wires stuck to her skin must be telling them her heart rate and temperature and other information she didn’t even know about, all laid bare on display for them to record and review to make sure the drugs worked properly.

_How did she get here?_ Her mind is moving like molasses, she can’t think--they must have given her a lot already. She works her right hand over to the IV. She has to take it out but her fingers are too stiff, too clumsy-- 

“Hey, Brooke? The IV needs to stay in, it’s okay.” The voice seems worried. 

She senses the person getting closer. Did they have a needle? Brooke curls inward on pure instinct, a whimper escaping before she can stop it. No crying or she’ll get punished. She hopes whatever they want from her won’t hurt. 

“Um, A’Keria said to tell you you’re safe.” The voice continues.

_A’Keria_. Brooke’s thoughts lag like an outdated computer. A’Keria wouldn’t be at the lab, would she? But if A’Keria’s here, where’s--

“Vanessa!” Her eyes snap open. She tries to get out of bed but the room tilts and she slumps back against the pillows. _Vanessa, find Vanessa_. “Wh-where is she?”

“She’s right next to you.”

Brooke’s head whirs around. The rail of her bed brushes another bed containing…_Vanessa_. 

She’s sleeping, face still pale but utterly beautiful, and she looks peaceful, her warmth reaching Brooke through the layers of blankets someone heaped over her, making her almost comfortable in the firm bed. She wonders if it was the same someone that dressed her in the sweatshirt and sweatpants she’s wearing. 

_Vanessa’s safe_. Brooke sighs. It comes rushing back: the church, the fight, her ice on Vanessa’s chest. 

Her stomach knots at how quickly her mind followed their rules, how quickly her muscles expected the prick of a needle. The scars might fade but they’ll always be there. 

_I am more than what they did to me_, she reminds herself, something else Nina taught her. 

Brooke drags herself closer, slipping her hand through the rail to circle around Vanessa’s, needing to know that she’s really here, trying not to worry about how limp Vanessa’s hand is. 

Yvie and Scarlet hover around the bed, both covered in bruises, medical tape, and bandages. 

“What happened?” Brooke asks. 

Her mind is still a little stuffy and she processes their information in chunks. Yvie knocked out Shockwave and Scarlet took down Quake, Scarlet waiting for backup while Yvie drove Brooke and Vanessa to base. Silk and A’Keria took Quake and Shockwave into custody after dropping Scarlet off, and Silk confirmed they really had them this time. 

They were gone. They were really gone. Not one person from the lab can touch her again. Brooke is breathless with relief, struggling to comprehend the sudden safety, sudden _freedom_, of knowing they wouldn’t hurt her or Vanessa again. 

“Then we saw Vanessa and you passed out,” Yvie finishes. “Ra’jah said using your powers that intensely made your temperature drop and gave you hypothermia. She thinks you were delirious, that’s why you got upset.” 

That’s why she saw them. She wasn’t going crazy. Brooke relaxes further into the blankets.

“She couldn’t believe you lasted as long as you did with a temperature that low,” Scarlet adds. “She had you in your own room at first even though A’Keria said it was a bad idea. Then your temperature kept falling and your pulse was barely there and Vanessa’s heart rate was slowing, and A’Keria let her have it.”

“A’Keria went _off_ on Ra’jah,” Yvie announces gleefully. “She basically told her if she separated you, she’d regret it more than when she got bangs. Ra’jah had your bed brought in real quick. And A’Keria was right. You warmed up faster next to Vanessa, and her heartbeat got stronger when you were there.”

“That hair was a national tragedy,” A’Keria declares as she slips inside, handing Scarlet and Yvie coffees from a tray and stroking Brooke’s arm. 

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I thought we were gonna lose both of you in one night,” A’Keria says softly, dark circles ringing her eyes.

“Ra’jah said to give you hot drinks when you woke up, so if you’re up for it…” She pulls another cup off the tray, placing it gently in Brooke’s hands. 

The scent of rich chocolate hits her nose, loosening her tense muscles. 

“Thank you,” Brooke whispers, and she can tell from A’Keria’s eyes that she knows Brooke means it for everything.  
\---

Ra’jah makes her stay in bed for the day, changing the small bandage on the cut on her head, which thankfully didn’t need stitches, and constantly checking her temperature. Even though being stuck here makes her skin itch, it’s bearable with Vanessa. 

Her whole body is warm as she watches Vanessa sleep, trying not to think of what could have been, grateful when Yvie, Scarlet, Silk, and A’Keria spend the afternoon with her and take her mind off Vanessa lying lifeless in the snow. 

Brooke’s heart leaps when Vanessa’s eyelashes flutter that night. Her brown eyes are dull and confused, but Brooke truly relaxes once she sees them. 

Vanessa’s awake. 

She’s awake and she’s going to be okay. 

“The fuck...B-Brooke?” 

“I’m right here. You’re okay.” They’re words Vanessa’s said to her countless times, and it feels good to say them back, to be the one comforting her.

“Brooke, what happened? There was lightning, and then I...I can’t remember. Did I...” Her voice shakes through rushed breathing, eyes wide with fear, and Brooke knows the word she can’t bring herself to say. 

Brooke stretches her hand over and Vanessa grips back weakly, breaths calming. Ra’jah and Nina had visited today, and they decided that telling Vanessa the truth was the best thing to do. So Brooke does, explaining that the lightning overpowered her heart but her CPR and ice repaired the damage and restarted it. 

Thick tears fall from Vanessa’s eyes as she finishes. Brooke’s not sure if they’re from happiness over being alive, or from thinking about how she almost wasn’t, which Brooke has been pushing out of her own mind.

Brooke longs to do more than rub her thumb over Vanessa’s hand and whisper that it’s okay, but Vanessa is asleep again before she can try to get up and kiss her.  
\---

They get home and collapse into bed. 

Vanessa is weak and exhausted, pain meds easing her discomfort, and she lets Brooke tuck her under the covers without a word of protest. Some of her color has returned, making the non-stick bandages covering her burns even more ghostly in comparison. 

“Do you need anything?” Brooke asks. 

“Just stay with me.”

Brooke slips under the blanket and rubs Vanessa’s back soothingly. She hates seeing Vanessa suffer like this but it’s nice to relieve some of her pain, to take care of her and let her hands caress her lovingly.

“Thank you for saving me.” Vanessa’s voice is thick with sleep. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I _wanted_ to. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so happy I’m still here to love you.” Vanessa pauses. “I might call Nina,” she says, somewhat randomly, and Brooke wonders if all this is weighing on her more heavily than she thought, if the drowsiness is making her extra vulnerable. 

“That’s good. I think she can help you.”

“Yeah.”

Vanessa is asleep seconds later.  
\---

“Do you want to talk about what happened in the church? It’s completely up to you,” Nina offers.

Brooke stares at her lap. She holds the squeeze ball but is too tired to play with it. She hadn’t even wanted to come to therapy today, but Vanessa had asked her to. 

Brooke shakes her head. “I just can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. I think it’ll benefit you to talk about it though, once you feel ready.” Nina pauses, and Brooke glances up to see overwhelmingly kind eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Brooke nods. 

“Have you thought about dancing again?”

She shifts around, clutching the ball tighter, spinning words from her thoughts. “Kind of. I- it’s like I picture myself dancing, but I haven’t thought about actually _doing_ it, if that makes sense?”

Nina nods. “Would you consider it? Because from what you’ve learned and what you remember, it seems like something that was important to you, that was a big part of you.”

“I…I remember feeling happy, and _free_. I think I _loved_ it. But what if I...never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Your thoughts aren’t stupid, Brooke. What if you what?”

“What if I forgot how? What if I try but I can’t do it?” Sometimes her muscles ache with the longing to twirl and spin and leap, to float like nothing can touch her, like the scars from the lab don’t exist, but part of her is afraid she won’t even be able to balance right, and dancing will be just another piece of her gone forever, another reminder of what she lost. 

“That’s not stupid at all. I understand why you’re concerned. But even if you’re not perfect, I think this could help you get more in tune with yourself and your body and relax a little. And it’s possible that your body might remember how to dance once you start moving. But only if you want to. You won’t know unless you try.”  
\---

Vanessa spends days on the couch with Riley nestled into her chest, not even changing her pajamas or showering, refusing any company. Brooke makes chicken soup that Vanessa only eats a few spoonfuls of. And she’s quiet. Almost scarily quiet, and she stares at the TV but Brooke doesn’t think she’s actually watching it.

Brooke tries not to worry. Vanessa has been through _a lot_. Brooke knows she can get through this, but it might take her a while to feel okay again, to feel like herself again, and Brooke understands. Vanessa is there for all her bad days, and Brooke will be there for Vanessa too, and for every one of her bad days. She makes sure Vanessa drinks enough water and applies her burn cream, but gives her the space she knows she needs.

Vanessa goes to Nina a week later and when she comes back her eyes are a little brighter and her shoulders aren’t so stooped, like a weight was lifted off them. She eats a few more bites than she had all week, and says she made another appointment. 

Brooke kisses the top of her head. “I’m proud of you, Ness.”  
\---

Brooke continues to take her medication, and she thinks she feels better. It’s like the buzzing that had always been in her head is fading, and she never knew how loud and distracting it was until it wasn’t there. The colors and noises outside aren’t as sharp, no longer fraying her nerves and assaulting her senses.

They spend the days leading up to Christmas in the kitchen, Vanessa leaving the couch for a bit as Brooke goes through every pot and pan and bowl they own and nudges Vanessa away from doing the dishes because she’s supposed to take it easy, body still sore even though she no longer winces every time she moves. 

She looks at the tree twinkling, Vanessa petting the animals. She’s been eating more and is slowly starting to come back to herself. Brooke wipes tears from her eyes. 

She can’t believe this life is hers.  
\---

Before they know it, Christmas Eve is here. Vanessa said Christmas Eve was the wild night in her family and Christmas Day was just for relaxing and eating leftovers, and they’re both pulsing with energy. 

Brooke finishes the red velvet cake and emerges from the shower to see Vanessa has washed the dishes and made French toast. 

“Ness, you didn’t have to do this…” She insists as Vanessa plants her in a chair. 

“I wanted to. It’s our first Christmas together and your first one after the lab, and I want it to be special.”

Brooke’s body tingles as Vanessa sits in her lap and kisses her forehead.

She knows it will be special just because Vanessa’s there.  
\---

Yvie brings noisemakers and the crackers that pull apart and get sparkles everywhere because she saw them in a movie once, and Scarlet almost breaks her ankle tripping on one when she tries to dance. 

They make enough noise for a hundred people through dinner, and Brooke sees how much they all needed this after the past few weeks. Her lips seem permanently stretched into a smile, a far cry from when her mouth twitching the wrong way could get her slapped.

There were days during her time at the lab when she woke up in her apartment and the loneliness almost crushed her, and she knew deep down that if anything happened to her, no one would even care. 

Tonight, she looks around at everyone laughing and smiling, bright eyes shining like Christmas lights, stuffing themselves with food _she_ made, and Brooke feels safe and whole and--_loved_. 

For the first time she can remember, she knows what it’s like to have a family.  
\---

Vanessa loves her robe so much she has to model it up and down the living room, paired with the thigh-high black boots and gold hoop earrings Brooke got her. She howls as she opens a box stuffed with chip bags, Vanessa’s favorites and crazy kinds Brooke found online just to see Vanessa smile over grilled cheese and coffee flavors.

Brooke is warm from head to toe like she’s wrapped in a giant blanket, running her fingers over the soft sweaters Vanessa got her and thinking of all the decorating she can do with her new baking supplies. 

The tears start when Vanessa opens the photo album. She told Brooke once that she had given A’Keria her mom’s old family photos for safekeeping. She always wanted to put them in an album but never did, and Brooke enlisted A’Keria’s help to do just that. 

Vanessa smoothes her hand over the glossy pictures, breaths short through her wide mouth. She takes Brooke’s hand, and Brooke understands. 

Vanessa’s crying only increases as she rips the chili-pepper wrapping paper on the small box Brooke hands her, revealing a tiny snowflake necklace, the first of the two Brooke’s been fidgety over. 

Vanessa is quiet as it rests on her palm.

_She hates it. What the hell was she thinking, getting her a snowflake necklace?_

“Is it okay?” Brooke asks.

“Brooke, I love it. I love it so much. It’s like you’re always with me.” She puts it right on, and it glitters in the light like real snow. 

Vanessa passes her a box papered in snowmen, expression hopeful and a little nervous. Everyone stops opening their presents to watch expectantly. She pulls the lid off the box and her heart nearly bursts. 

Tucked inside the tissue paper is a pair of soft pink pointe shoes.

Brooke’s mouth falls open as she strokes the silky texture, suddenly hit with the memory of leaping through the air, weightless, with lights on her and music strong in her ears, in shoes just like these. “How-how did you…”

Vanessa grins. “I called Plastique to see if she knew what ones you wore. I had a whole page of notes on sizing and shit, I felt like I was looking at the damn DaVinci code. But I’m 99 percent sure they’re right.”

“They’re perfect.” She kisses Vanessa’s cheek as her legs burn from being on pointe and her ears ring with distant applause, all she can do to thank Vanessa for the freedom and memories she’s given her. 

Ribbons and bows and wrapping paper fly around the room like missiles as everyone unwraps the rest of their presents. Yvie screeches over her tarot cards, Scarlet’s excited yell over makeup almost breaks a mirror, A’Keria says she will be taking her spa trip soon to get away from Silk’s nonsense, thank you very much, and Silk fawns over her new tech equipment, a bow that no one’s told her about still stuck in her hair, hushed bets placed over how long before she notices. 

“I have one more for you,” Vanessa winks mischievously. 

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “So do I.”

“We going in our room for this. Don’t want all you nosy hoes in the way.”

They head down the hall to a chorus of “ooohhhs”, and Brooke tries to ignore the pang in her chest at Vanessa’s weary, restrained movements. 

Vanessa closes the door and immediately rambles to herself, a sign of rare nervousness. “Do I have to kneel a certain way? I used to get smacked for going on the wrong leg in church. You know what, screw it.”

Vanessa lowers herself onto both knees. She pulls a tiny box from behind her back and opens it, a ring nestled inside the velvet, glimmering in the light. 

Brooke’s jaw drops as her stomach leaps, tears immediately welling up. 

“I didn’t rehearse this or anything, but Brooke...what can I even say? You gave me a life I didn’t know I was missing. You make me happier than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. I love how kind you are and how you always take care of me. I love when you put your head in my lap and let me play with your hair. I love that you love me for me and don’t try to make me change who I am. I love how you always get frosting on your nose when you eat cupcakes. I love falling asleep next to you at night and waking up next to you in the morning, and getting to see you everyday. I love you, Brooke, and...will you marry me?” 

Brooke can barely speak, love overflowing from her and filling every inch of the room. “Yes, yes, I’d give you a thousand yeses if I could.”

The love in Vanessa’s eyes is overpowering. Brooke crouches down and lets Vanessa slide the ring on her finger, and it’s a perfect fit, just like their bodies intertwined in bed. She pulls Vanessa in for a kiss, and everything vanishes. Vanessa’s lips are the only oxygen Brooke needs, and the two of them are all that matters.

“You said you had one more?” Vanessa prompts. 

“See, the thing is…” And Brooke reaches into her pocket and pulls out a box. 

She knows that what’s inside will be more than just a ring to Vanessa, but it’s more to Brooke as well. Even when she was free from the lab, it’s something she never thought she’d have the courage to do. But Vanessa helped her not only escape her chains, but want to shatter them too, and with this ring, she feels she’s destroyed the last link encircling her wrist. 

“Brooke,” Vanessa is giggling through her tears as Brooke unveils the ring.

“Um, so I practiced this with Nina, and she’s also an ordained minister and offered to do the wedding, but anyway, here goes.”

She takes a breath, reminding herself that there’s no need for the jumpiness in her stomach. “Vanessa, you...you saved me in more ways than you know. Even when I didn’t know who I was, I knew who you were, and it’s because of you that I am who I am now. I’m not scared to wake up in the middle of the night anymore, because you’re there. You’re so kind, and gentle, and you’re by my side for everything. And I want to be by your side, for the good and the bad and even just the normal stuff. I want to hug and kiss you and make you breakfast and take care of you. I want to be there for you singing in the shower and taking forever to pick a movie and burning your mouth on cookies right out of the oven. I love your laugh and your smile and how strong and funny and brave you are and how you always smell like potato chips. Ness...I look at you, and I know everything’s going to be okay. You’re my best friend. I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Vanessa squeals between sobs before burying her tear-stained face in Brooke’s chest. 

This might be the only Christmas Brooke remembers, but it is undoubtedly the best.  
\---

Everyone acts _too_ natural when they return, Yvie almost falling off the couch in an effort to look casually sprawled across it. 

“Well?” Silk demands. “Did you do what we think you did?”

She and Vanessa both display their rings, bursting into laughter.

“Y’all really are useless lesbians,” A’Keria mumbles. “Silk, I want my money, hoe! I told you Brooke was too much of a softie to let Christmas go without a proposal!”

“You two make me want to throw up,” Yvie declares. 

“That’s one of the best compliments Yvie has,” Scarlet promises. 

Silk leaps off the couch, red bow still hanging tough in her hair. “Enough with the tears, Momma’s got a bingo game to win!”  
\---

They fall into bed later that night, exhausted but lightheaded with bliss, ready for Christmas Day with everyone all over again. 

“We’re gonna get married,” Brooke whispers incredulously.

“I know,” Vanessa grins back. 

They fall asleep with their ringed hands locked together in a promise of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Just a heads-up that Chapter 6 might take slightly longer than usual, as it's a big chapter and I want to get it right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke saved Vanessa and they both proposed at Christmas  
Now: The wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I managed to pull this together faster than I thought! Thank you all for your amazing comments and support! I really hope you like this one, and it would be great if you could leave some feedback!  
*there is mild angst and implied depression in the beginning*  


Vanessa tries not to think about the fact that she was d--she can’t say it. The fact that she wasn’t alive. 

Sure, Yvie figured it was less than 10 minutes, but the bottom line is she had no heartbeat. The world faded to black while she thought of Brooke, and the next thing she knew she was in a hospital bed, mind snapping instantly through its haze to Brooke, needing her near. 

They go home with pills and a bundle of papers on burn cream and dosages and instructions to rest and warnings that she’ll be weak, all read dutifully by Brooke. She lets it slip that she might call Nina, which she should have done months ago, honestly, and Brooke is sweet about it, and Vanessa eagerly chases sleep to avoid her thoughts. 

The thought that Brooke would be alone, that she’d have no one to calm her after a nightmare, or would have to spend what was supposed to be their first Christmas together without her, combined with the thought that Vanessa was almost permanently dead, and would never watch another sunset or zip up her suit or feel the wind on her face when she drove or see Brooke smile again--it’s too much to even think about it, and it’s this that leaves her burrowed into the couch, unable to move.

She feels like rocks are weighing her down, and her body is so heavy she almost can’t get up to go see Nina. But Nina’s helped Brooke so much, and if there’s a chance Nina can help her _not_ feel this way, she has to go. It’s like all the life is slowly leaving her and she doesn’t want it to but she’s too exhausted and numb to fight it.

She throws herself in the shower for the first time in she doesn’t know how many days, trying to focus on the heat of the water as it patters against her skin. She borrows some of the breathing techniques Brooke does and she’s not sure if she feels better, but she definitely feels cleaner. 

She drops in a chair across from Nina’s desk. Nina’s sunny face exudes calm, though Vanessa didn’t even know she was nervous. 

“So everything I say is cont-continent, no, const-constitu-- you won’t tell anyone?” She huffs in exasperation. 

Nina smiles. “Everything is confidential, yes. Nothing leaves this room.”

Vanessa nods. “Right. So, like, where do I start?”

“Well, we could start with how you’ve been feeling? It’s important to think about your mental recovery along with your physical recovery.”

It bursts out of her, a volcano erupting without warning. How Brooke would have been alone and Vanessa wouldn’t have been alive, and how the fact that she could have--and probably _would_ have, in normal circumstances--died twice now has settled into her body and makes her bones want to snap from the sheer weight of it. 

“And I feel kinda guilty,” she adds after a breath. “I should be happy. I _am_ happy. But it’s hard to be happy you’re alive when you keep thinking how you almost weren’t, you know? I just want to feel normal again.”

Nina is quiet. For a second Vanessa wonders if she’s too fucked-up for Nina to help, but then she re-considers that she shouldn’t think of herself like that. She’s been through trauma, like Brooke has, and Vanessa would never think of Brooke as fucked-up, so she isn’t either. 

When Nina finally speaks, it’s soothing. “You don’t have to feel guilty for your feelings. You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling, and after something like this, it’s understandable that you’ve had some challenges returning to your typical life.” 

Vanessa nods. 

Nina takes a breath. “But I want to help you with the source of your guilt. Do you think it’s just because you’ve been struggling with focusing on being alive? Or do you also think you’re experiencing guilt for another reason?”

_I’m guilty that I survived when others didn’t_, Vanessa thinks but doesn’t say. It’s been in the back of her mind since the fire but never said aloud. Damn, Nina was good. If Vanessa didn’t know she’d controlled wind back in her hero days, she would swear Nina read minds. 

“My mom believed in that ‘everything happens for a reason’ stuff,” Vanessa starts, not quite sure where she’s going. “I never really did. But that’s twice now I should have died and didn’t, when people that should live die every day, you know? And it’s not fair that they died. It’s not. But I lived and I guess it’s just like...shit, I’m here, aren’t I? And I want to be. I want to live,” her voice grows stronger. “I just want to live. I want to make out with Brooke and eat a shit-load of chips and pet dogs and save people, as long as I can. So I’m going to. I guess that’s all I _can_ do, right?”

“I think that’s all any of us can do,” Nina says softly before continuing the session.  
\---

She knows Christmas can’t magically make her better, but she books another appointment with Nina and watches Brooke scurry around the kitchen making cookies (and snatches some off the tray), and cuddles with her while watching Christmas movies, and it’s a little easier to be happy, to focus on the fact that she’s here, breathing, and how glorious it is to be alive. 

She keeps peeking at the ring she hid in her dresser. Sure, they’ve only been together for five months, but Vanessa knows without a single doubt that Brooke is the one, just like all rom-coms talk about, and it’s their first Christmas together (she even got an ornament with two little birds proclaiming it) and she’s going for it. No time like the present. She’s _excited_ to give it to Brooke, and after days on the couch feeling absolutely empty, it’s a relief to have her stomach flutter with anticipation. 

She persists into Christmas Eve, and makes French toast for breakfast like her mother always did. She settles into Brooke’s lap to feel her solidness, breathes and focuses on the moment like Nina showed her. 

Everyone barges in that night, and she slips into the noise and chaos like an old sweater you thought you’d grown out of, only to find it fits better than ever and is just as soft as you remembered. 

She looks around and it dawns on her that what she has in front of her is something she hasn’t had, hasn’t _felt_, in years, and thought she never would again: a family. Not the one she had, the one she lost, but a new one, one she’s made herself, with Brooke by her side. 

Her stomach is jittery when she leads Brooke to the bedroom, though it’s possibly because she overdid it on the cake, and even as she pulls out the ring and fumbles over her words it doesn’t seem real; it’s more like the best dream she’s ever had. 

But then Brooke says yes and kisses her and her lips are so light and cool that it has to be real. _She’s going to marry Brooke_. She thought she’d lost this type of bliss and joy after the fire. She never thought she’d have anything like it again. But that ring is her second chance, a reminder that while she lost in the fire, she rose from the ashes and can be happy again, can have a family again. 

And then she laughs as Brooke pulls out her own ring and her words draw more tears out of Vanessa than she thought the human body could even hold. 

She remembers when she first brought Brooke home, how for days she was afraid to even get a glass of water without asking first, and Vanessa’s heart cracked each time. Now, with Brooke in front of her proposing, her ring already on Brooke’s finger, she finds her heart has not only been mended but may simply explode. They’ve both come a long way. 

She gets hit in the forehead with a bingo ball twice because she can’t stop looking at their rings, and that night she falls into one of the best sleeps she’s ever had.  
\---

January marches in and the cold weather is refreshing. It’s January 4th before the mess of the New Year’s party is completely cleared up, after finding an empty Pringles can mixed in with toilet paper under the bathroom sink that afternoon (Vanessa’s money is on Silk).

She keeps going to Nina. They talk about the fire a lot, because Nina says Vanessa never truly let herself feel and understand her grief from it, and Vanessa knows she’s right. She buried it so forcefully that it scrapes and scratches her insides on the way back up, but she can’t deny that after she talks about it, she feels so light she could fly. 

She starts to feel normal again, as normal as one can when you also shoot fire out of your hands, but there are times when she’s afraid to close her eyes, afraid of what she might see and afraid they may not open again. She tells Brooke and Brooke just asks how she can help, and Vanessa wants to be held. So Brooke holds her at night and keeps her calm, speaks soothingly to her as she drifts off, and it’s exactly what she needs. 

The burn on her arm is almost gone, but she thinks the one on her chest will scar, a thin pink line right over her heart. A reminder that she lived, and that she will continue to do so.  
—-

One morning she enters the kitchen to see three different-sized pancakes carefully arranged on her plate, with tiny chocolate chip eyes and buttons.

“Snowmen, huh?” Vanessa grins. 

Brooke’s cheeks turn pink. “I had a dream last night--I think it was a memory, actually--that I was a little kid making a snowman.”

Vanessa lets her snowman swim in syrup and quickly devours him. She eats her last bite, then stands abruptly, trying to hide her smile. “Put on your coat.”

“Why?”

“We’re making a damn snowman.”  
\---

“I’m gonna throw up, I swear,” Brooke groans. 

“You gotta carry me, I can’t walk,” Vanessa says. “Why are there so many wedding cake samples?”

“Where’s the next place?” Silk asks jauntily. 

“Yeah, y'all are amateurs, I can do at least 10 more samples,” Yvie brags. “I had a competitive eating phase when I was 12.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Vanessa asks. 

“I’m sitting the next one out,” Scarlet says.

“Same here,” A’Keria says. 

“You better not puke in Bertha!”  
\--- 

“_Damn_, Brooke,” Vanessa whistles, knees going weak, heat rising up her neck. 

Brooke glances up and smiles shyly as she adjusts her jacket. “It looks okay?” 

Brooke is wearing a deep navy suit for the wedding after confessing to Vanessa one night that she wouldn’t be comfortable in a dress. Vanessa’s never seen Brooke in a suit before and she’s forgetting what words are. 

“Mmm. Lot more than okay.” Vanessa practically runs to kiss her, only to almost trample Scarlet, who is on the ground checking the fit of Brooke’s pants.

“Save it for the wedding,” she warns, raising her measuring tape at Vanessa threateningly. 

Vanessa manages to save it until that night at least, when she rips off her clothes like lightning and throws herself into Brooke’s arms.  
\---

The rest of January passes in a whirlwind of wedding plans. 

Nina has a beach house that she’s going to let them use, in addition to officiating the ceremony. She agreed to stay for a little of the dinner, but not too long because it was unprofessional. Vanessa’s thought it before, but she thinks it again: _Nina is a goddamn saint_.

They keep it small: Silk, A’Keria, Scarlet, Yvie, and Plastique. As a child, she never pictured herself having such a small wedding, especially since weddings in her family seemed to have a 200-guest minimum, but she finds it’s exactly what she wants. All the people that she truly likes, there to see her marry the woman she loves most. There’s nothing else she could possibly ask for. Aside from picking the cake, everything has been easy, and they weren’t screaming at each other over guests and food like the straight couples on TV. 

They decide on a March wedding, a few days after spring starts, halfway between winter’s ice and summer’s fire. Back in the fall, Vanessa had listed March as the end of her life.

Now it’s the start of her new one.  
\---

“This place is fancy as shit,” Vanessa mumbles through a mouthful of bread. 

“I know, right?” Brooke grins.

Valentine’s Day couples surround them, and Vanessa notices that Brooke only looks over her shoulder a few times, instead of every other second like she used to. 

They keep smiling at each other and bursting into laughter. Vanessa is happy, so happy it can’t even be described. She’s sleeping better, and Brooke is down to one or two nightmares a week, and each hour with Nina gets easier, and she’s just _happy_. Vanessa tells Brooke her Valentine’s horror stories, and Brooke tells her about the flashback dream she had recently about going sledding, and then they just talk and joke and laugh about everything and nothing and Vanessa feels like she’s done this with Brooke her entire life. 

Their plan to romantically split a chocolate-peanut butter lava cake fails spectacularly after they taste it and their cute fork touching turns into war over each bite. 

“Screw romance, I’m ordering another cake,” Vanessa says.

When they get home after dinner, Vanessa almost steps on a rose petal, which form a trail from the door to the bedroom. She notices Brooke watching her carefully. 

“How did you do this while we were gone?” Vanessa asks. 

“I asked A’Keria to come here and arrange them, but I did the writing.”

“Writing?”

“Yeah, um, the rose petals are fake, but it’s so I could write on them. Each one has something I love about you on it.” Brooke smiles nervously. 

Vanessa picks one up and turns it over, _your laugh_ written in Brooke’s tiny handwriting. She bends over for the next one and reads _how your head fits perfectly against my chest_.

“How are you even real?” Vanessa muses through her tears. “You’re like, straight out of a movie.” She hugs Brooke and winks mischievously. “You’re gonna have to do some hunting for mine. I had Silk come here while we were out and hide yours all over the apartment.” 

“What am I looking for?” Brooke asks. 

“You know your notebook you write stuff you remember in?”

Brooke nods. 

“I wrote you my own notebook. This one has my favorite memories of us in it. I thought you’d like it.”

She spent days reliving her favorite times with Brooke and writing them down, from the time when she told Brooke stories about her mom and Brooke just listened and let her cry, to the time they stayed in pajamas and watched movies all day, to their intense, flushed-cheek snowball fight a few weeks ago, and to when Brooke fed pigeons in the park and they almost got attacked by birds. 

“I love you so much,” Brooke says warmly, eyes damp in the corners. 

“I think we should follow those rose petals first before you look,” Vanessa says.

Brooke scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom.  
\---

Brooke has ice on her toes when Vanessa gets home from shopping, and Vanessa knows she was dancing again. She knows Brooke has been practicing, but she hasn’t mentioned it so she doesn’t get self-conscious. 

“Hi there.” Vanessa leans over the couch and kisses the top of Brooke’s head. 

“Hi,” she replies. “I, um, I was dancing,” she adds, cheeks flushing. 

“I see that. Is it going okay?”

“Yes.” Brooke smiles. “I’ve been watching videos and it-it just feels so good. I can’t really describe it. Like, I start and I forget everything, it’s just me dancing. It’s a little rough though, starting up again after two years,” she finishes, gesturing to the ice bags. 

“Get on your stomach, I’ll give you a massage.”

Brooke nods, fingers running over the bottom of her shirt. “Should I…”

“You can leave it on, baby,” Vanessa says. She knows Brooke doesn’t like having her body and scars exposed too much. 

Brooke nods again and flops onto her stomach, and Vanessa brings her hands down to Brooke’s shoulders. She lets her hands work the muscles loose and roam down Brooke’s back, skin she knows as well as her own. She knows the firm shoulders with two scars on the left one--one from her tracking chip and one from Black Diamond’s diamond blade--knows the dip of Brooke’s spine, the light dusting of freckles on her back. She ends with a soft kiss on the back of Brooke’s neck, and she purrs dreamily, then flips over and pulls Vanessa to lay on her chest. She strokes Vanessa’s hair, and they’re both asleep before she knows it.  
\---

“If you come one inch closer, I swear to God I’ll burn you till there’s nothing left,” she growls. 

“Ness, will you hurry up and kill it so I can shower?” Brooke whines. 

“It’s a giant-ass spider, and I can’t use my powers or I’ll burn the whole place down!”

“Maybe I can freeze it?” Brooke suggests. 

“Worth a shot- oh shit, he’s moving!”

5 minutes later she’s melting the ice crusted around the bathtub, and the spider is nowhere to be found.  
\---

“For the last time, get outta the kitchen, Mary! I’m not letting you make your own birthday cake!”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Brooke says sheepishly. 

“I know, but I want to.” This is Brooke’s first birthday away from the lab and Vanessa refuses to let her lift a finger.

Vanessa used to help (read: lick the spoon and make a mess) her mom bake, but was never as good as her, and seeing how calm and happy Brooke gets when she bakes makes Vanessa eager to try on her own.

She knows Brooke made her own food when she was with the lab, but the drugs often left her too sick to eat and cooking didn’t excite her like it did now. Plus she didn’t have as many memories with food like most people did, though they’ve found that certain foods give Brooke flashes of memories, and she loves trying new things. Vanessa remembers one of their first nights together when she asked Brooke what she wanted from her favorite Chinese place, and Brooke had looked at her blankly, then pored over the choices with such interest and indecision that they ordered half the menu. 

She sends Brooke to spend the afternoon with Yvie and Scarlet and ties on an apron like a serious chef. 

It’s just a vanilla cake with strawberries that Silk used her connections to procure from somewhere they’re in season. _How hard could it be?_

Vanessa stares at the recipe and grabs her phone in the same instant.

“A’Keria, get your ass over here and help me make this cake!”  
\---

She and A’Keria manage to successfully make not only a cake, but also macaroni and cheese, roasted chicken, and mashed potatoes, and still emerge from the kitchen alive. 

Yvie and Scarlet bring Brooke back and Silk arrives with salad, and Vanessa hops in the shower to get frosting out of her hair.

The cake comes out better than she hoped, after she destroyed her apron and had to clean cake batter off the walls at one point, and it actually tastes _good_. Vanessa can’t hide her surprise or pleasure. 

Brooke starts protesting immediately when Vanessa hands her the envelope. Vanessa cuts her off. “I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I had to get you something. You got me Riley for my birthday. And this is kind of for both of us, if that helps.”

Brooke concedes and Vanessa watches her smile spread as she opens two tickets to a ballet. Vanessa thought it would be fun for the both of them to go. “Ness, this is amazing! I haven’t seen a ballet since before, you know.” She pulls Vanessa in for a strawberry-vanilla kiss. 

Scarlet somehow kicks all their asses at Monopoly without even trying, and she has Silk howling that she’s a cheater after she lands on her property 3 times in a row. 

Brooke reprises her role as trusty banker, and Yvie delivers a lecture on capitalism every time someone takes her money. A’Keria gets wine-drunk and passes out a few minutes before Silk throws the board across the room and Scarlet makes it rain paper money, and all in all, it’s a tame round of Monopoly.  
\---

Somehow, before they know it, it’s the morning of their wedding. 

“We’re getting married _today_,” Brooke points out. “Like, _hours_ from now.”

“You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you?” Vanessa nestles her face in Brooke’s chest. It’s a little tight, and she frowns with worry. 

“My feet are always cold.”

“Tell me about it, I sleep next to them every night,” Vanessa teases. 

Brooke snorts, and Vanessa feels her relax.

“Seriously, though,” Vanessa continues. “You nervous?”

“I was a little nervous last night,” Brooke admits. “But then I remembered that you’ll be there with me, and I was okay. How about you?”

“Me? I’m good. I have you.”  
\---

Yvie’s face is grim when they arrive at the beach house. 

“I think we’re gonna have to postpone the wedding,” she says gravely. 

“Why?” Vanessa demands. 

Brooke had brought their suits and masks in a bag, just in case, which Vanessa hates but it’s part of the job. She’s praying they won’t have to use them.

“I had a vision last night, and there’s gonna be a huge attack on the city.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vanessa roars. “I can’t have one damn day.”

Yvie laughs so hard she doubles over. “I’m kidding,” she spurts between tears of laughter, “I just wanted to see what you would do.”

“That ain’t funny, hoe!” Vanessa yells, chuckling against her will.  
\---

Silk insists on keeping them separated, and hauls Scarlet with her to get Brooke ready while A’Keria and Yvie work on Vanessa. 

She had her mom’s old wedding dress altered and it fits her perfectly, the white lace cool on her skin. A’Keria is good with hair and just started her new job at a salon, and she twists Vanessa’s waves into a half-down, half-up hairstyle Vanessa wouldn’t have even attempted.

She shoves their hands away and puts on her own makeup, and then she’s ready with half an hour to go and she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She sits down and A’Keria berates her for wrinkling the dress. She pulls out potato chips and Yvie snatches them away. 

“I need to see Brooke,” Vanessa insists, ignoring their protests and barreling into the bedroom where Brooke is getting ready, currently tangled up with Silk and Scarlet trying to tie her bowtie and looking in danger of being choked. 

“Allow me.” Vanessa strides across the room and shoves them both aside. She unknots the bird’s nest they’ve created and follows the YouTube video she memorized last night as Brooke rubs at her throat. 

“You look so beautiful.” Brooke’s eyes are shining as she looks down at Vanessa. 

Vanessa feels her cheeks warm. “So do you, baby. You’ll look even better when I fix this bowtie.”

“My wife,” Brooke whispers in disbelief, tears pooling, and now Vanessa’s crying too. 

“You got me crying already, I’m gonna wreck my makeup and A’Keria’s gonna scream,” Vanessa laughs tearfully. 

“Sorry.” Brooke breathes a soft laugh. “I guess I’ll see you out there?”

“Yes.” Vanessa heads outside. “You will.”  
\---

And then, like a dream, her feet rest on the sand, gray-blue water behind her, faint sun shining as she looks into Brooke’s eyes, eyes that she had always noticed even behind a neon-green mask. 

When she first started fighting Frost, over a year ago now, the most exciting thing she could imagine for her future was bringing Frost down. Now, her future is painted with Brooke’s green eyes, and she can’t even imagine the good things in store for them. 

Her makeup is shot to hell as she begins her vows, but she doesn’t care. Brooke’s hands hold hers and keep her steady, and Vanessa speaks words she knows she will follow forever. 

“I promise to always take care of you. I promise to be by your side through good and bad and everything else. I promise to be there when you’re scared in the middle of the night, and when you have to get a shot, and when you just need a friend, and when you want someone to try the cookies you made, I’ll be there, don’t worry.” She and Brooke both grin. “I promise to listen and try to understand your thoughts and feelings, and to give you space when you need it. I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Brooke bites her lip, hands gripping tightly, and Vanessa knows she’s trying to find her voice to respond with her vows. 

“I promise to always take care of you. I promise to be by your side through good and bad and everything else. I promise to be there when you’re scared to close your eyes, and when you need to cry, and when you just want to watch a movie, even if we’ve seen it a hundred times. And I promise to be there when you’re sick after trying to eat a dozen cookies.” Brooke smirks knowingly, and Vanessa accepts that she’s never letting that one go. “I promise to listen and try to understand your thoughts and feelings, and to give you space when you need it. I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Both their eyes are damp, and Nina’s are too as she begins to speak. “You may now-”

But Vanessa doesn’t need to hear the rest. All she needs are Brooke’s lips on hers, their ice meeting her fire and creating an explosion of fireworks that burst through her whole body, and her only thought is that these are the lips of her wife.  
\---

When she and Brooke finally hit their pillows, clothes shed and panting breathlessly, it’s well past midnight and she’s still floating. 

The entire party passed in a blissful blur, with Brooke using her powers to create an ice pack for Scarlet after she hit her knee trying to dance one of the highlights she remembers.

She also remembers Plastique going through almost a whole pack of tissues, and pulling her aside after the ceremony to say that she’s never seen Brooke this happy. 

Brooke’s mouth is entirely frozen into a smile right now as she gazes at Vanessa lovingly across the mattress. 

“I love you,” she says. 

“And I love you,” Vanessa says back. 

She curls up in Brooke’s arms, their bodies intertwining, and she listens to them breathing in sync, their hearts beating in rhythm. 

When they finally do fall asleep, it is just before the sun rises on their first day as wives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a little longer for Chapter 7, just a heads up. It's the last chapter and I want to get it as perfect as I can. Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa settle into married life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the last chapter is here and I'm in my feelings. Three months ago, I was looking at Brooke’s superhero runway look and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I decided I really wanted to write it even if no one would read it. The response this fic has gotten has blown my mind. Every comment, like, reblog, etc. has given me such joy and it honestly means the world to me; the sequel definitely wouldn’t have happened without your support. I’ve put my heart and soul into this for 3 months, and I’m really happy with the ending. Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone that read, commented, liked, shared, etc. If I could thank each one of you, I would. I’ve got some exciting new works planned, and I hope you'll stick around to read them! 
> 
> Also thank you @writworm42 for helping me get the final scene together.

Brooke’s fingers constantly drift to her ring, like she needs to touch it just to prove that it’s real. 

To prove that her entire life is real. 

When the worries break through and threaten to consume her, when she struggles to see herself as anything other than a burden weighing Vanessa down, Vanessa’s promise to love her forever and always be there for her echoes in Brooke’s brain and forms a protective shield over her, fears and doubts ricocheting off and banished from her mind. 

Her vows in return extend the same protection, and she hopes it makes Vanessa feel safe when she struggles herself. She hopes Vanessa knows that Brooke will always love her no matter what. 

She rubs the smooth ring in their hotel that morning, trying to calm the bouncing in her leg as Vanessa sleeps. Vanessa had been too excited to sleep much on the train, and Brooke is so grateful Vanessa didn’t even mention flying down to Florida, that she was willing to spend a whole day on a train for her, that she’ll let Vanessa sleep all day if she needs to.

She pulls out her notebook and flips through the pages Vanessa had written her for Valentine’s Day, all her favorite memories the two of them made. Brooke giggles to herself as she reads about when she and Vanessa made pizza, and Vanessa tossed the dough in the air and got it stuck to the ceiling. She’s reading about the time they were on patrol and took a break to play in the snow when Vanessa’s phone blares. Brooke jumps, papers scattering over her lap, and Vanessa rolls over with a groan. 

“This hoe can’t even leave us alone on our honeymoon,” Vanessa grumbles as she puts the phone on speaker. 

“I have exciting news I think you’ll like to hear,” Silk announces grandly. 

“The last time you had exciting news, it was about the crunch wrap at Taco Bell, so-”

“Quake and Shockwave are going away for life in the Pacific Prison. They’re gone, and I mean it this time,” Silk cuts Vanessa off. 

Neither of them speaks. The Pacific Prison, on the other side of the country, was reserved for the worst criminals. 

Vanessa ends the call, and Brooke turns to her, wetness in the corners of her eyes. “We’re really safe, Brooke,” Vanessa says. “They can’t touch us again.”

They embrace in the bed and Brooke holds on to Vanessa and this moment, completely wrapped up in the security like a blanket.

They break apart, and Vanessa pushes tangled hair out of her eyes and pulls her clothes on. “You could have woken me earlier,” she insists.

“I wanted to let you sleep. Besides, we have time. We have the whole week.” 

_We have our whole lives_, she thinks, _and today is just the beginning_.  
\---

They decided on Disney for their honeymoon. Vanessa hasn’t been since she was a kid, and Brooke is pretty sure she went before, but can’t remember it that well. 

They talked and laughed and pointed out all the animals and weird billboards they saw out the window on their train ride, which Vanessa had booked without hesitating over the 24-hour journey; she knew without question that flying wasn’t an option. 

They run through the gates at Magic Kingdom and Brooke is bouncing up and down, and Vanessa couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to. She feels like a kid again, the sky bright and a perfect day blooming in front of her. They approach the castle and Brooke gasps. 

“I’ve been here before!” she exclaims. “I think I was 9, maybe?” She rubs hard at her temples, trying to force the memories to come, and Vanessa is about to ease her hands away and tell her it’s alright if she can’t remember when Brooke claps. “The train ride! There’s a roller coaster like a train! Can we go on it?”

“Of course we can,” Vanessa laughs. “You’ll like Splash Mountain too. That one was my favorite. It’s a water ride.”

“You go in the giant log!” Brooke shrieks. “I remember!” And she grabs Vanessa’s hand and they wade through old memories as they make new ones. 

They get matching ears and stuff themselves with so many mouse-shaped foods that Vanessa almost hurls on Thunder Mountain, which Brooke drags her on three times in a row.

They have to dial back their strength before they break the wheel on the teacup ride, and Vanessa may or may not speed past some screaming 5-year-olds to get a front row seat on Splash Mountain, a decision she regrets slightly after the mammoth order of chili cheese fries she and Brooke split. 

She can’t remember the last time she felt so carefree, so weightless. She thinks she could actually float away. Brooke is by her side, slurping at her second ice cream cone (sometimes Vanessa thought the ice powers were scarily accurate), and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, no one whose arm she’d rather have around her shoulders on the It’s a Small World ride. 

That night she kisses Brooke as red and blue fireworks soar and fizzle in the black sky over the castle, and just like on their wedding day, the explosions of joy inside her rival any in the sky.  
\---

They come back home and resettle into life as a married couple. It’s honestly not that much different than it was before. They volunteer at the animal shelter together again, cats and dogs licking at their hands. They make dinner together, looking for any excuse to bump shoulders or brush arms as garlic is chopped and spaghetti boils. They wedge themselves into the couch with all three pets, Vanessa flicking through channels while Brooke flips through cookbooks. They go to bed with limbs intertwined, difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins.

They fulfill their vows everyday. Brooke insists on patrolling when she isn’t feeling well, and Vanessa tucks her into bed that night and spends the next day swirling honey into tea to soothe her throat, simmering chicken soup, and laying cold washcloths on her sweaty forehead. Vanessa gets deep into it with a villain going after a young girl, fists flying and rage burning, and Brooke cleans all her cuts and spreads cream on her bruises and massages her aching muscles, helping the anger ease out on a wave of gratitude that the girl wasn’t harmed. 

They each go to Nina, and Brooke dutifully takes her medication every morning. _Progress takes time and isn’t always in one direction_, Nina reminds them both as they continue to heal. 

They zip through damp spring air, Frost maintaining her death grip on the handle, Yvie with her legs draped across Scarlet’s lap in the backseat while they hold hands, Vanjie howling out the window on their way to another crime.

People come up to them and deliver sincere _thank you’s_ thick with tears, two young kids throw their arms around all four of them in turn, and for all the joking and griping, for all the fears and doubts, they know that keeping people safe makes it all worth it. 

That battling supervillains and battling your personal villains equally make you a hero.  
\---

Brooke reads her file again, piece by piece. She knows to do it with Vanessa or Nina, after she read it alone one day and wound up on the bedroom floor, knees to her chest, the tide of panic so strong and swift she couldn’t fight as it overtook her and stole the air from her lungs. 

She learns that she was an only child and that her parents died when she was 20, a few months before she began dancing professionally. She started in on the business side of the company six years later, working her way up, and was the youngest co-director in the company’s history, her heart filling with disbelief and a long-ago pride as she reads, Vanessa’s steady hand on her shoulder grounding her. 

The nightmares aren’t as frequent, and she gets occasional flashes of her life pre-lab, sometimes just a random image, like a photograph floating through her mind. Sitting at a desk doing homework, her tiny hand clutching a stuffed monkey, a glittering gold dance trophy, smiling in her black graduation robe. 

She still gets big ones, flashbacks that feel like they last for days, depleting her energy while the horror of memory traps her in its grasp, helpless until it ends. She manages them easier now, knows to lie down afterwards and let her body and mind rest. 

She decides to tell Yvie and Scarlet what happened. Nina said it was her information to share, and she wants to share it. Brooke trusts them, and she’s pretty positive they won’t pity her or think any less of her, and they don’t. They both shed tears and give her big hugs and say how happy they are that she’s healing now. 

Ra’jah said that with all the complicated drugs the lab gave her, most of them advanced and untested, it’s likely she won’t regain all her memories, and Brooke is genuinely okay with it. After over a year of being locked in a cage she didn’t know was a cage, not knowing the happiness she was being denied, not even knowing her own name, any memories at all are special and enough for her. She writes down her flashes and dreams and revisits them, focuses on the memories and the delight, or sorrow, or nerves she might have felt at the time. 

And every day, she makes new memories. Memories of blowing flour at Vanessa across the kitchen. Memories of slow-dancing in the living room at midnight, heartbeats replacing words. Memories of Vanessa tripping over Apollo after said slow-dance, both of them laughing till they cried, sharing crinkly-eyed grins. 

Just like Nina told her to do in one of their first sessions, she lists things she does know. 

She knows that she is in a much better place than she was a year ago, both mentally and physically.

She knows her parents loved her in the flashes she gets, even if she doesn’t remember completely. 

She knows she has friends that love and support her. 

She knows she loves Vanessa, and Vanessa loves her. 

She knows that she will continue to do the best she can.  
\---

Vanessa knows something’s up when Brooke picks at her food and excuses herself right after dinner, but she’s not sure what until Brooke emerges from the bedroom with her pointe shoes on, brow furrowed and teeth digging into her bottom lip. 

“Vanessa, I...I want to show you. I want to dance for you.”

Vanessa has wanted to see Brooke dance since Christmas, but she didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to put that pressure on her.

They move the coffee table and Vanessa seats herself on the couch while Brooke stands, eyes on her feet. Her shoulders rise up and down twice, then she nods to herself, and starts to move. 

Vanessa remembers when they used to fight, when Brooke’s fighting techniques were so graceful and elegant that Vanessa thought she seemed out of place as a fighter, like her body should be doing something else. Now, she knows exactly what that something is.

Brooke spins and twirls and jumps and Vanessa’s eyes are wide, forcing herself not to blink because she doesn’t want to miss a second. Brooke moves so exquisitely, so beautifully, that their living room transforms into a stage and her leggings and T-shirt become a delicately sewn costume. Vanessa is lucky just to take her beauty in.

Whatever nerves Brooke was showing melt away. Her eyes are bright and focused, not a hint of hesitation in her movements. It’s the most confident Vanessa has ever seen her. 

She makes it look so natural, so easy, though Vanessa knows if she tried it she’d be flat on her ass with a broken ankle. 

Her eyes have the same sparkle as when they went to the ballet last week: like a missing part of her had been found again.  
\---

Brooke’s not sure when, but at some point while she dances, she stops thinking and simply _lives_. There’s no couch, no walls, no ceiling to box her in or imprison her. Even Vanessa fades into the background. There’s no thought of what move is next, no consideration of what criminals she’ll stop later; it’s just the air flowing around her, existing solely to whoosh past her limbs as she goes up on her toes and spins around, and it feels like flying. 

She’s been practicing in their room, studying YouTube videos and observing herself in the mirror, but out here is different. She has the space to roam, and she’s not going cross-eyed staring into the mirror looking for her flaws. 

She just lets herself go, lets herself be. 

Nina was right. Even though she’s not perfect, it doesn’t matter; she feels each stretch in her muscles, mind quiet and calm as her body takes over, every atom of her being alight with pleasure. She didn’t _need_ to be perfect. She just needed to be free. 

She finishes with a flourish and a deep breath, oxygen going in and intensifying the good ache deep in her muscles, and Vanessa bursts into applause. 

Heat floods her cheeks. “You liked it?”

“_Liked it?_” Vanessa scoffs. “That was incredible, Mary!”

“I just-” A sob swallows Brooke’s response, cheeks damp without warning. She can’t explain it, wouldn’t even know how to start. There truly aren’t any words; the closest she can manage is a bird spreading its wings for the first time, nothing to hold it back. 

Vanessa rubs her back in understanding. “You don’t gotta talk. Just let yourself feel it.” She takes Brooke’s hand. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Seriously, Brooke.”

It’s like the lab’s chains never even bound her. 

It’s like a part of her she thought gone forever has come back to her.  
\---

“I’ve been thinking of working with A’Keria,” Vanessa admits one night, head on Brooke’s chest and arm around her waist, stroking her hip.

“Instead of at the base, you mean?” Brooke questions. 

She nods against Brooke’s skin. “She said the woman who owns the salon is looking for someone to do make-up, and that’s what I used to do, you know? I mean, working at the base is great, but I think I need a bit of a change.”

The base is calm, and predictable, and she had needed that stability when she first got her powers and was readjusting to the world. But now she’s ready for more, something besides reviewing case records and running daytime city monitors. 

“I think that’s a great idea.”

“You do?” Vanessa had thought so herself, but it also seemed like too big of an idea to think was good on your own; the kind of idea where you wanted to see what someone else thought of it.

“Yeah. If you want to do it, I think you should.” Brooke’s voice is enthusiastic, fingers twirling Vanessa’s hair. 

“I think I will.” She pauses before her mouth opens again. “Have you thought about leaving the base, doing a different day job? Maybe you could work at a ballet studio or something?” 

Brooke is silent and Vanessa holds her breath. Brooke’s been doing great lately, especially with her meds, but changing jobs is a big deal for _anyone_ and maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“I’ve talked about it with Nina before,” Brooke answers right as Vanessa is about to tell her she doesn’t have to. “I...I think I’d like to. Eventually. I know I’d have to work on it with Nina. I mean, the last job I had was 2 years ago and I barely remember it, and I’d have to do interviews and stuff and just thinking about it makes my stomach hurt-”

“Hey, hey, just breathe,” Vanessa soothes, feeling Brooke’s chest tighten and her heart take off beneath her. “I know that would be hard for you. You don’t have to be in any rush. You just be you. If you decide to change, I’ll be here to help you. If not, I’m here too. I’ll always be here.”

Brooke’s lips are soft against her temple. They fall asleep quickly, and she calls the salon the next morning.  
\---

“Are you sure you want _Vanessa_ to teach you to drive?” Yvie asks, fixing Brooke a pointed stare as she sips orange juice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa demands across the table. 

Scarlet pipes up. “Well, we drive around with you in that death trap of a car every night-”

“I _know_ how to drive,” Brooke says. “I just haven’t done it in a while.” 

The lab gave her a motorcycle to use on her missions and to go to her appointments, though they sometimes drove her home in a security car depending on how out of it she was after the drugs hit. 

“Vanessa’s a decent driver,” A’Keria starts. 

“Thank y-”

“If your only other option is walking,” A’Keria finishes around a mouthful of toast. 

“Hey!”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Brooke cuts in. “I mean, I just want to go to the grocery store, not-”

“Drive for NASCAR?” Silk snorts. 

Vanessa takes her to an empty lot that afternoon. Brooke keeps readjusting her sweaty hands on the wheel. The last time she’d driven had been in a downpour, her worried focus enabling her to see through raindrops and her own teary, bloodshot eyes, to get Vanessa from the cemetery Brooke knew she went to when she was upset. 

“You gotta take your foot off the brake,” Vanessa instructs softly. 

“I know, I know. I’m just...nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous for, baby. I won’t let anything bad happen.”

Brooke nods and eases onto the gas. She breathes in and out as the car glides across the pavement. It’s…_okay_. Sure, they’re going about 15 miles an hour, but she finds her grip loosening as she makes easy turns and changes directions. 

“You’re doing great!” Vanessa encourages. “Maybe I’ll open up a driving school!”  
—-

“We really do have cake for everything, don’t we?” Scarlet says. “Brooke’s like a lesbian Martha Stewart.”

“Bold of you to assume Martha Stewart isn’t already a lesbian,” Yvie says thoughtfully. 

“I didn’t see you complaining over those tree cupcakes for Arbor Day,” Silk says.

Vanessa digs into the chocolate cake, her leg nestling against Brooke’s under the table. She just started at the salon that day and Brooke wanted to have pizza and cake for her, spending the afternoon on caramel filling and cream cheese frosting. 

It’s only been a day, but she already knows she _loves_ it there, feels some of the old Vanessa peeking through, delighting in the salon gossip with A’Keria and the other girls and helping her clients feel good. And the best part is, she’s just _Vanessa_. No one knows about Vanjie, and she can focus on powders and lipsticks instead of weapons and fighting tactics. 

It’s comforting to know the old Vanessa isn’t entirely gone.  
\---

“There’s, um, there’s a job opening at this ballet studio. The same one that did the show Vanessa and I went to,” Brooke explains. 

“And you’re interested in it?” Nina prompts.

“Well, maybe I could- I mean,” she sighs and starts again. “I _want_ to. I-I think I might be able to, but I would need some help. Is that okay?”

“Brooke, that’s wonderful! I do think you could take on something like this, and we can talk about anything you’re fearful of or think you need help with. This is a big step and I’m proud of you. I want to tell you that again, Brooke. I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you’ve worked so hard and you deserve to be proud of yourself.” Nina’s voice washes over Brooke and her insides heat up. 

“You really think so?” Brooke asks, grin breaking free. 

“I know so,” Nina affirms. “Think of how far you’ve come. Remember our first session?”

Brooke did, face flushing at the memory. Even though she knew Nina wasn’t that kind of doctor and Vanessa promised Nina wouldn’t hurt her, Brooke sunk into the chair with her knees against her chest and her head down, and Vanessa had stayed outside the door just in case. But Nina had been kind, and told Brooke to use her first name instead of Dr. West, and by the end of the hour, Brooke was at least able to lift her head up. 

“Yeah.”

Nina smiles. “You hardly talked. But look how much more comfortable you are now. I know you still have days that don’t go as well as you’d like, but you’re still here, and you keep working. Have pride in that, okay?”

Brooke nods because she can’t speak around the lump in her throat. Brooke has felt the changes in herself, but to have someone else, someone like Nina, notice and tell her she’s doing well, is a kind of pride Brooke can’t describe. 

“Oh, and Brooke?”

“Yeah?”

“Speaking of progress, do you remember when I asked you to try not to apologize when you’re here?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s been an hour, and you didn’t apologize once.”

Brooke’s eyes narrow and all she can do is stare at Nina in disbelief, rifling through her words from the past hour. Sure enough, she can’t remember an apology passing her lips. 

For just a second, Brooke almost apologizes for _not_ apologizing, _I’m sorry’s_ second nature to her. 

Brooke closes her mouth, suppressing the reflex, as Nina’s words sink in. It may have taken over 6 months from when Nina asked, but she did it. 

_Progress takes time_, Nina always said, and while some small part of Brooke thinks something like this shouldn’t have taken so long, she knows not to measure herself with _shoulds_ and _shouldn’ts_. Her progress is her progress. 

Her face spreads into a wide smile. “That’s, um, that’s good then,” Brooke manages. 

Nina smiles back. “It sure is.”  
\---

Vanessa’s been at the salon a month now, thriving like a summer flower after a cold winter. Her body is strong and focused, and with Nina’s blessing, she starts doing monthly therapy sessions instead of weekly ones. 

She nuzzles against Brooke one night and cautiously slips her hand under Brooke’s shirt. Usually Brooke would go rigid when Vanessa got too close to her scars. One time she even pushed her hand away, like she was ashamed of them.

But tonight, she doesn’t. She tenses the tiniest bit, but then the muscles relax again. “It’s okay,” Brooke murmurs, and Vanessa sets her fingers, warm with love, over Brooke’s icy skin. 

Her fingers brush over the tiny one between her ribs, then the one below it, the one Vanessa stitched herself after Brooke took a bullet for her on the night that they- and the life they have- began. She warms the one just above her waist, where the doctor shot her. 

And then her hand roams up to the big one, the thick, raised line that starts at the hollow of Brooke’s chest and runs to her abdomen; based on her file, this is how they’d repaired the internal damage she sustained in the crash. 

She knows Brooke has always been torn about her scars, much like Vanessa is about the one she got from the lightning strike. They are permanent reminders, etched on skin, that they suffered through things no one ever should. But they’re also signs that they survived those things, that they’re still living. 

She rests her hand over Brooke’s heart, the gentle beat calming beneath her hand. Instead of telling Brooke that the scars make no difference to her, that they don’t make her any less worthy of love, she lets her hand speak as it warms Brooke’s body, hoping Brooke understands that Vanessa loves her no matter what.

The knowing look in her green eyes says that she does, and Brooke slides her hand up Vanessa’s shirt, stopping at her hip. Vanessa nods, and goosebumps form as Brooke’s hand smooths over the small pink scar on her chest before settling on her heart. 

They just lay there, arms tangled up, hands on each other’s hearts, pulsing against their touches. 

It reminds her of their first night together, no need to talk as their touches exuded more love than words could ever describe, as their hands delicately explored each other’s faces, unaware that the lips and noses and cheeks they were touching would soon become familiar terrain. 

Unaware that they would soon come to recognize the sound of each other’s breathing. 

Unaware how big a space they would soon occupy in each other’s hearts.  
\---

The July night is warm, and they had looked at the calendar that morning and realized it was one year. One year since Brooke was released from her hospital bed after being shot, one year since Vanessa took her home and they began their new lives together, free from the lab. 

One year, and things are still changing. Vanessa got promoted to head make-up artist at the salon, and in two weeks Brooke starts assisting the director of a ballet company, taking the first step to get where she would like to be someday. Silk took care of the paperwork, replaced all her personal documents the lab had stolen; Nina spent weeks with her practicing interview skills and ensuring she felt ready to work outside the base; and Vanessa supported her the whole way, rubbing her back when she threw up from nerves the morning of her interview and insisting on a pizza party when Brooke got the job. 

The city shines below, bright lights beaming, so dazzling they almost made you forget the crimes occurring below. Crimes they were going to stop. 

They settle on the blanket Vanessa’s laid on the rooftop, suits on but masks off, still Brooke and Vanessa, as she unpacks the basket, laying out marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers. 

“S’mores?” Brooke asks uncertainly.

“S’mores, baby!” 

“But there’s no fi-_ohhh_.” 

Vanessa winks. “This is one of the best perks of fire powers. I kept forgetting to show you.” She dangles a marshmallow above the small flame flickering in her hand, watching as the skin crackles to a crisp golden brown before laying it on top of the chocolate and forming a perfect s’more.

Brooke takes it in her eager hands as Vanessa whips up another for herself, arranging potato chips on top, and they laugh as marshmallow clings to their lips, trading sugary kisses to get it off. 

“Vanessa, I love you,” Brooke says. “I love you so much, and I don’t know if I told you today, so I want to say it now and make sure you know.”

Vanessa reaches over and takes her hand. “I love you too, baby. So, so much. And _you_ better know it too.”

Their lips meet again, Brooke’s hands resting on Vanessa’s hips and Vanessa’s hands stroking Brooke’s back, love bursting off them in sparks. No matter how many times they’ve kissed, each one is special in its own way, like a snowflake. 

“Got a report of breaking and entering at the department store on 13th,” comes the voice in their ears.

“What’s a kiss without Silk to interrupt it?” Vanessa mumbles. 

They reach in one for one last kiss, one last blend of sweet chocolate and sticky marshmallow, of fire and ice, before reaching for their masks.

They traipse down the ladder and Vanjie revs up Bertha. Frost extends her arm and they lock hands over the center console. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Vanjie tears away from the curb and they head deeper into the city, chasing the moonlight that shines on them both, each of them thinking how beautiful the other looks with the moon in her hair. 

They both know they won’t be able to do this forever, that eventually a day will come when they have to hang up the masks. And when they do, they might pick up the phone and call a child adoption agency. Hopefully by then they’ll have the cozy little house they’re saving for, with flowers and a vegetable garden in the back. 

But that’s the future. A future neither thought they could have, but one they can make happen. 

Together. 

For now, they have lives to live and memories to make. 

They have each other. 

And they’ve got a city to save.  
\---

Post-Credits Scene  
_Years Later_

“These are the flowers we’re gonna give Mommy,” Vanessa instructs Lily, wiping frosting from the cupcakes Brooke made off her lip. “It’s her first show as the director and we want it to be special, right?”

“Right!” Lily agrees. “Wanna hold ‘em! I‘m a big girl, Mama.” She flashes the brilliant grin Vanessa has seen every day since they adopted her three years ago, and Vanessa knows she’ll never tire of it. 

Vanessa smiles. “You are a big girl, huh? You can hold them.” She bends down and puts the bright bouquet in her daughter’s tiny hands. “I’m gonna get Mommy, okay?”

“Okay!”

Vanessa knows exactly where Brooke is going to be: their bedroom, staring out the window at the garden. Her favorite place to think. 

Brooke’s shoulders rise up and down evenly, and Vanessa knows she’s doing her breathing techniques. The sun shines off her short blonde hair, and she fills out her black suit so well it should be illegal. The sight of her still makes Vanessa’s body warm and her heart flutter, even years later. 

“You okay?” Vanessa asks, taking Brooke’s hand. “You were quiet during dinner.”

Brooke nods, and her eyes are damp. “Yeah. Just...thinking about how lucky we are. You and A’Keria running the salon now, and me directing the company, and Lily...we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“We sure have.” It hasn’t been an easy road for either of them, but it’s taken them places they never thought they could go, given them things they never thought they could have. 

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Brooke asks. 

Vanessa nods. “You sure did, baby. And I love you too. Don’t you forget it.”

Vanessa stretches up and kisses Brooke, and it still feels like the first time. 

The kiss is interrupted by Lily’s hand tugging on Vanessa’s dress. She thrusts the flowers at Brooke, whose tears fall harder as she accepts them.

“Are you sad, Mommy?” Lily asks.

“No, baby, I’m not sad. I’m really, really happy.” Brooke scoops Lily up, and the little girl is sandwiched between Brooke and Vanessa in a hug. 

“A’Keria and the others are gonna meet us,” Vanessa reminds Brooke. “You ready?”

“Ready.” Brooke nods.

“Ready!” Lily shouts. 

They pile in the car, and this time, they’re not racing to stop a criminal. This time, they’re riding to live their lives. 

And it is every bit as heroic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
Edit 2/5/2020–I did add a Christmas special to this series that can be read after Overpowered if you’d like


End file.
